The Fruit Forbade
by Verboten Byacolate
Summary: Wherein it is pondered which needs the other more: the fearless, reckless human, or the besotted guardian angel. written with whitetyger123
1. One

Alfred F. Jones had always been a sickly child.

Sometimes, when he was floating in between consciousness and sleep, he thought he would see the figure of a man in the room with him. Of course, when he asked his mother about him, she would laugh and check his temperature. Because he was just a little kid, they chalked it up to his overactive imagination. Had he been older, he probably would have gone to counseling.

He got healthier when he was older, and he no longer thought he saw a strange man. Alfred never truly forgot about it, but the thought was pushed to the back of his mind. Until the accident.

It was a fairly normal car accident, as far as car accidents go. It was dark, the road was narrow. A deer ran in front of Alfred's car, so he swerved and hit a tree. It was a good thing there was another car that came along a minute later to call the ambulance, because he was pinned by his steering wheel and couldn't move. The sides of his vision were starting to go black, but he didn't lose consciousness for a few minutes.

In those few minutes, he felt something on his shoulder. It could have been his blood soaked shirt, or maybe even a piece of the passenger seat, but to Alfred it felt like a hand. Not only that, but he could have sworn he heard someone telling him that everything would be all right.

* * *

Waking up in the hospital was a strange experience. Alfred looked around and tried to get up before wincing. It seemed he had a few broken ribs. There was a nurse smiling at him.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, bending over him to check a number of machines and tubes. "You sure look a lot better than when you got here. They said it was a miracle that you survived!" She seemed very happy, a little too happy for such a dreary place.

Groaning, he tried to breathe evenly. "Uh, considering I was in an accident, I guess I feel pretty good." Because of the morphine he couldn't feel much of the pain, if he didn't move. He knew he would hurt later on, though.

She giggled, gave him some water, and left with an assurance that she would return shortly. Alfred closed his eyes and tried to listen, to make sure no one else was in the room. A miracle... but was it? If he had been saved...

"I don't like talking to myself. If you exist, let me see you," he called out to the seemingly empty room.

In the far left corner of the room, there was a large, cushioned chair, meant for visitors. The air directly above the seat of the chair seemed to stir.

And then, as unexpected things often do, it happened very suddenly. In a flash of light that might have blinded the boy were his glasses not lying on the bedside table next to him, and the sound of a tinkling bell, a figure appeared. Or rather, fell into the chair from midair.

"Oof!" went the figure in white.

Eyes wide, Alfred almost couldn't believe what had just happened. Sure he had asked for it, but for it to actually happen, for a man in a white dress and wings, with a ring of gold around his head, to actually appear out of nowhere... But, being the optimistic person he was, he smiled. "I knew it!"

Perhaps flustered, the figure leapt up, his halo tipping off to the side, pointing an accusing finger at the man. "You! How could you have possibly known?" Tilting his halo back into its proper position, the figure in white placed his hands on his hips. "There are rules and regulations about these kinds of things, you know!" His voice was distinctly British, and in this particular moment, shrill.

"I could just tell. You look exactly like what I imagined the man looked like from when I was a kid." Alfred's voice was full of wonder, reaching out to touch him. Of course, he was much too far away. "How do you look like him? That was like… fifteen years ago." And this man looked hardly older than the American.

Harrumphing, the gentleman clad in a white toga came forward, near Alfred's bedside. "I don't age," he professed. "And what about you? You were once the sweetest, cutest little thing. You used to see me all the time." He leaned forward so that even the extremely near-sight American could see the furrow in his enormous eyebrows. "But you were _supposed _to have grown out of that ages ago. Now look at you, seeing seraphim all willy-nilly like it's your right."

Wincing as he shrugged his sore shoulders, Alfred pushed a button so the bed lifted a bit. "Well, maybe near-death experiences make people see... angels? That is what you are, right?" It could have been the amount of pain medication he was on making him see things, but he figured that this was the real thing. His reasoning was that crazy people never thought they were crazy, and he was sure thinking he was crazy right now, so he must not be crazy.

"Don't push yourself," the angel said quickly, his hands gently brushing over Alfred's shoulders, all warmth and grace and soft, holy gentleness. "... And yes," the angel replied, cocking a monstrous brow. "An angel. That's what a seraphim is."

"Really? I've never heard that before. Why is an angel British anyway?" And as an afterthought, he added, "And what does an angel have to do with me?" He was really hoping that no one was going to walk in any time soon, because if this was anything like the movies then he would be the only one who could see him.

"Yes, really," he said, beginning to count down the questions answered on his fingers. "I've spent most of my days on earth assigned to the kings and queens of Great Britain - Anne Boleyn was a fluke, mind you, there was some France-loving twit guiding _her _I'm afraid - and for the first time since John Winthrop on that ghastly ship, I'm back in America, watching over you." A second finger went up in the air. "Finally, you're reckless and foolish and stupidly brave with an irrational sense of justice, and since The Almighty created you as such, it is my duty to watch after the idiotic lambs in His flock."

Even though he had just made the biggest discovery of his life, Alfred felt his eyes drooping. His body needed rest, he knew, but this was just so interesting! "So you," He gave a big yawn, "are supposed to protect me? A guardian angel? That's awesome." Did everyone have a guardian angel? Or was he just lucky? Or maybe unlucky was the problem, from what he had just said.

The angel's eyelids fell as Alfred's began to glass over and he smiled, just briefly, leaning over to press his lips, light as a feather, over the American's eyelids. "Hush now. This is all an exhausted dream. When you wake up, it'll seem so silly to have imagined a British angel appearing in your room, won't it? Just imagine."

* * *

When he awoke again, it was dark outside. Well, at least that way it would be even less likely someone would walk in on him talking to himself. "Why did you disappear?" He called out, his throat scratchy from dryness. He got no response, so he tried again. "You must be a really bad guardian angel if you leave for a coffee break."

He received no reply, though. The room was dark and silent, save for the quiet nurse chatter and fluorescent hall light leaking through the cracks in his doors. The gentle hum of machinery probably wasn't meant to lull him, but it did try. And as it tried, it failed, perhaps only serving to make the man more anxious.

Alfred bit his lip. No. No this couldn't happen. There was no way he imagined it this time. Yes, maybe when he was a kid in the middle of a fever. Maybe when he fell out of a tree and broke his leg. Maybe even in the crushed car the day before, but he had finally spoken to the man, the angel, and he would not let that be taken away from him.

Looking around the room more carefully, he tried to see if there was any shimmer in the air, as there had been before the angel appeared. But, laying on the bed, he couldn't see much. "Come on, angel, show yourself," he said, not very loud since he didn't want anyone to know he was talking to himself. Alfred sat up in the bed, but there were still places in the room he couldn't see. He ripped the IV out of his arm, hardly even noticing that small pain when his ribs were burning. Then he tried standing up on shaky legs, so that he could look behind machinery and in the bathroom. He had to find him! He just had to!

A bell-like tinkle chimed with a hint of agitation as two arms tucked under his shoulders and stopped him from moving with a gentle force. "What do you think you're doing, you idiot?" a distinctly accented voice hissed in his ear. "Do you want to do more damage to your poor body? Get back into bed this instant!"

Relief washed over him. It wasn't a dream, and neither was it his imagination. As Alfred was lifted back into the bed, he grinned up at the angel. _His_ angel. "I'm glad you're back. I missed you." The pain was still there, but he was sort of detached from it. He felt as the IV was jammed back into his arm by the disgruntled Brit.

"Shut your mouth, yank," the angel grumbled, a single tear dripping from his eye. "You mustn't do that again, do you understand?" He cupped Alfred's face in his hands. "When your mind is connected to me, as it must have been when you tried to kill yourself just now, any pain you experience is directly sent to me. So you must not think of me, nor attempt to move your injured and heavily medicated body!"

Gasping, Alfred lay down as he was told. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." He would try his best to not move, but he already knew there was no way he couldn't think of the angel. Then he smiled up at him, watching as one of his wings twitched. "So you can fly?" It was a stupid question, obviously. He was an angel, he had wings, of course he could fly. But they seemed too small to lift him, so maybe they grew?

The angel opened and closed his mouth, his brow furrowing. "Well, yes, but..." He sighed. Arthur could already tell that trying to convince the man that this was all a drug-induced dream would be a lost cause.

"Mr. Jones?"

And then he was gone with a soft 'pop' as a nurse poked her head into the doorway. The light from the hall flooded a straight path to Alfred's bed.

Alfred looked to the nurse, smiling. "Hi, sorry. I was woken up by something." Hopefully she hadn't heard anything. That would be kind of hard to explain.

"Oh. I thought I heard voices. Are you sure everything is alright?" She looked around the room, getting a strange feeling. Of course, it could have just been that she had had twelve hour shifts for the past five nights.

Laughing a little nervously, the patient tried to use his charm. "Oh, I talk in my sleep. And I just woke up a second ago, so that must have been what you heard."

The nurse could not help but smile. In his wakeful moments, the young man had been nothing but charming and polite, if a little silly (from the meds, surely), and she had no reason to doubt such a handsome, smiling face. "All right then. Get some sleep before the doctors come back to check on you, okay?"

"Sure thing." His smile is all white teeth, and he even got in a small wink before she left with a sweet smile. After a few seconds, when he heard her footsteps down the hall, he looked to where the angel had been when he disappeared. "Alright, she's gone. You can come back again."

Flustered, Arthur reappeared, spluttering all the while. "Who do you think you are? You- you can't just summon me at will! I am not a... a novelty you can just bring forth and examine at your own leisure! You don't even know my name, you... you...!"

Alfred tilted his head slightly, careful not to aggravate his bruised collar bone. "Angels have names? Alright, what's your name? I guess you would know that I'm Alfred." Since he had apparently been watching over him at least since he was a little kid.

The angel gaped. People have always been, at the very, _very _least been somewhat wary when a supernatural entity has gone off on them for something or other. This boy had no clue in his blond little head, did he?

"... Arthur," he answered after a moment, the tips of his wings fluttering slightly.

Snorting, Alfred peered at him over the rim of his glasses. "That doesn't sound like an angel's name." It sounded more like an old man's name. Angels should be called Gabriel, or something like that.

Arthur flushed. "Well, it is." He folded his arms across his half-bare chest and scowled. "And I know what you're thinking, and if I weren't linked directly to your pain, I would knock you into next Tuesday for thinking it!"

"Aw, come on, there isn't anything wrong with having an old man name. I mean my name is Alfred, I should know." And then a thought occurred to him. The angel -Arthur- had been watching over him his whole life. Every minute. So in theory, he had seen... _everything_. "Well, Arthur... I want to ask you something. Do you look away when I change?" Before the now blushing angel could respond, he continued. "Do you cover your ears when I touch myself?" How about the first time he had had sex? Was he there for all of it?

The angel's eyes widened and he flushed, glancing to the side. "... Yes, though I've never much understood a human's desire to fornicate." He thought back for a moment to the times of England's rubbish kings and shuddered. Messy and wrought with diseases that even modern medicine could not cure. "The concept of pleasures of the flesh has always eluded me."

Eyes flashing, Alfred almost lifted up his hand to touch him, but decided against it in case he ended up hurting them both. "You're a virgin? Oh wait you're an angel, of course you're a virgin... But seriously Arthur, it feels _so_ good. You should try it."

"No, thank you. King Henry has convinced me that going anywhere near that sort of thing can only bring trouble." Before Alfred could ask him to specify which king, he clarified; "All of them, practically."

At that he laughs, and they both cringe as his ribs protest. "Sorry, I didn't mean, it was just so funny." At this point, Alfred thought it would be better for both of them if he went to sleep. Arthur held a hand against his own abdomen and sighed, seating himself gingerly on the bed next to Alfred. "You've had your fun for the night," he said softly. "It's time to sleep." He reached out slowly, hesitantly once he remembered that Alfred was definitely watching him, and touched his hair, stroking it as he had done since Alfred had been a babe.

He closed his eyes, happy. Alfred felt the angel's hand in his hair till he fell asleep, which really wasn't very long. It felt good to have a guardian angel.

* * *

* * *

A bit further along there'll be some religious themes. Obviously, this is focusing more on the angel aspect of Britannia Angel. Apologies in advance if this fic steps on any toes.


	2. Two

This Could Theoretically Be Sparta (yeah, woulda been one word, but ff.n's upload documents won't allow it), thank you for your thoughtfulness and insight. Everyone: Seraphim are super high up on the angel foodchain, and guardians are near the bottom, but that's not really a part of this fic. We've taken creative license here. Thanks for understanding! :)  
_Forbade _updates every Wednesday.

* * *

A few weeks later, they let Alfred leave. He wasn't fully recovered, but they couldn't do anything else for him and with a pocketful of prescriptions, he was sent on his way. When he was wheeled out to a taxi, he was happy to know that Arthur was right by his shoulder. He couldn't be seen, but he was definitely there.

And the angel was indeed there, hovering as he always did: very close by.

The scent of Alfred's apartment was the same as always, except perhaps for the distinct absence of any delicious smells radiating from unhealthy foods wafting from the kitchen. Alfred hadn't occupied it for weeks, a fact that would be obvious to anyone who knew the young man.

Arthur seemed to notice the small pile of laundry on the floor near the couch before Alfred did and, bending over, he ran a hand over the American's right calf as he made a beeline toward the pile. As he had intended, Alfred raised his knee a little higher, and the angel breathed a sigh of relief. If Alfred had tripped over it, he probably would have hurt his bruised ribs terribly.

Grinning, the American tried to guess where Arthur was. "Thanks babe. You could have just told me." It was a different experience for him to know that there was always someone with him, always there. Even in the bathroom, though Arthur always went invisible there and Alfred told him not to look. He bent down with the help of the couch and picked up most of the clothes, trying not to think of his angel in case the movement hurt. The whole pain being transferred thing sucked.

Obviously it hadn't worked; the angel popped into view, fluttering in what could only be described as a sort of midair stagger, above the sofa. His hands flitted delicately over his own ribs. "W-what did you call me!"

Lifting an eyebrow, the American smiled as he sniffed the clothes, deeming them not too dirty. "I called you babe. I would have called you baby, but thought that sounded too girly." He went to put the clothes in his room. He tried to remember how they had gotten out there in the first place, and then remembered that the morning before his accident he had changed out in the living room. Arthur must have been watching him then... out in the open like that...

"And _'babe'_ doesn't?" Arthur scoffed, huffing and picking up the clothes that Alfred just tossed onto his bed. Folding them meticulously, he fluttered around a bit, and suddenly felt a slight jab of pain in his ribs. He was by Alfred's sight in a millisecond. "Are you all right?"

One of his hands wrapped around his torso, Alfred waved him off with the other one. "Just the pills are wearing off. I think I put them around here somewhere..." He checked his pockets and looked around him on the floor, hoping they would appear.

Arthur disappeared for a moment, popping back up with Alfred's jacket in his arms. "You put them in here, I think," he said, rummaging around in one of the deep pockets, procuring a clear orange bottle.

"Thanks. Now disappear so I don't think about you." After all, it would take about half an hour for the medicine to kick in, and he didn't need Arthur in pain too. He swallowed them dry, wincing at the feel of it slipping down his throat. Now, he had to think of other things. Bunnies, and war, and fire, and he should really get around to cleaning his room, if Arthur was going to live here. Ah dammit, this was difficult!

The angel sulked at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes moved around the kitchen and, with all the silence a seraph could possess, he filled a glass with water from the tap, wincing as pain wracked around inside of him like someone was bowling in his chest and thought his ribs were the pins. "He shouldn't be moving around so much," Arthur grumbled, phasing into Alfred's room so that the mortal could not see him, silently setting the cool glass on his bedside table.

With warm, pure persuasion, he gently took Alfred's face in the air between his palms as the silly fool was closing one of his drawers. Slowly, but surely, the subtle, silent whispers of his fingertips drew Alfred forward. 'To bed with you,' he willed the man.

Suddenly feeling tired, Alfred gave a yawn. '_I wonder if Arthur sleeps. Wai,t I can't think of him!_' Eventually he found himself crawling into his bed, deciding that he could leave the cleaning to tomorrow. The medication must be making him drowsy, he figured, before falling asleep.

_He wasn't sure who the person was, but he led him down a corridor. They had to keep moving, so they wouldn't be found. The corridor led to a door, to the roof. They both went through it, and flew away on large white wings. Luckily the people fallowing them couldn't fly. He just hoped that they wouldn't fall, because he hated falling in a dream._

Arthur abruptly stopped cleaning the vast home when he felt trepidation that was not his own trickle down his spine. He was at Alfred's bedside in a heartbeat, running white fingers through strands of golden hair. "Hush now, be still," he murmured, kissing Alfred's forehead delicately. His fingers worked through the man's hair until the restless clenching of his fists relaxed. "There you go, love."

_They ended up flying to a forest, with a beautiful lake. He looked beside him to the man he was with, glad to be here with him._

The angel closed his eyes, and in the way that angels do, he immersed himself into the dream, one moment by the sleeping Alfred's bedside, and the next under the observation of his dream-eyes.

_Oh right, now he remembered who the other man was. Of course it was his angel! "That was so close! I'm glad we got away." He bent down to drink some of the water. It was the most refreshing water he had ever tasted._

_"Away from what?" Arthur asked, glancing around. Hmm. Interesting. Alfred dreamt in pastels._

_Looking at him as if he were mad, the American pointed in the direction of the castle. "From the communists of course! They were trying to steal our right to vote and stuff. I think." He got in the water for a swim, suddenly finding himself in a pair of swimming trunks. _

_Arthur lifted a brow at that, sitting contently in the grass and watching the dream man splash around in the pond for a bit. "Ah. Right. The communists." Feeling the world tremble and fizzle, he was jarred from his seat. Alfred's medication must have begun to wear off._

_Alfred gaped at the forest fire. He was no longer in water, he was standing on very dry and flammable grass. He clenched his teeth as his chest burned from the flames licking at him. "Arthur, where did you go? Help!" He had nowhere to run. His chest was still hurting him, making it hard to breath. _

_Wrapping an arm around Alfred's waist, Arthur waved his hand in an arc at the fire, and with the movement of his hand, the flames seemed to melt, trickling down and down like condensation on a window. "Nothing to be afraid of, poppet," Arthur soothed his trembling charge. It made no sense that the only things Alfred had ever been truly afraid of were locked away inside of himself._

_Looking up, he sighed in relief. "Thanks." Then he stood up straight, and brought Arthur closer to him, kissing him right on the lips. "You saved me." Even though his chest still hurt, but that didn't matter so much anymore._ _Feeling something constricting both his chest and Alfred's, Arthur pulled away, gasping in pain and surprise. "I-it's time to wake up, you!" he snapped, his face a deep, brilliant red as he pulled himself out of Alfred's subconscious._

Blinking open his eyes, Alfred started feeling around for his glasses. And it seemed he would be needing another pill. But from what he could remember of his dream, he wished he was still sleeping. "Arthur? You there?" Why did he always disappear whenever he was sleeping?

He was there. He was always there. Unfortunately, for the moment, he had refused to reappear, silently glowering at Alfred from atop his dresser.

"Oh come on, don't be like that. I could always pinch myself so that you hurt too!" Maybe he could hear him squeak in pain. Or he could bite his own arm. He wondered if that would also make a mark on Arthur... Then he blushed slightly from what he was thinking. It was all his dream's fault!

Arthur stuck his invisible nose in the air. Fancy that, a human trying to coerce an angel into appearing! The little snot. Perhaps Arthur had been too lax with him thus far.

Shrugging, the American brought his arm to his mouth and bit down, making sure he was thinking about Arthur as much as possible. Leaping from his spot, Arthur cried out, and for a brief moment, he lost control of his form in surprise. The image of his being shimmered in the air before he cursed, nursing his arm against his chest. That little rat!

Alfred laughed out loud, enjoying himself. "It's your fault, you didn't appear when I called you." He grabbed his bottle of pills and took one, thankfully grabbing the glass of water by his side. He sat up to swallow them, grunting slightly. This was so annoying, he wished his ribs would hurry up and heel.

Arthur snapped at him from the dresser. "It's not your place to call me out, you tosser!" There were visible teeth marks on his arm and he threw a dirty scowl at the human.

"But you're my guardian angel. I feel like I'm alone if I don't know where you are." Sure, most of his life was spent not knowing Arthur was there, but now that he knew he always wanted to see him. "And doesn't it feel better, having the person you're guarding know about you? It must be so lonely, not being able to talk to anyone, not being recognized for the things you do."

The angel regarded him quietly for a moment from atop his perch. "We don't need recognition," he said softly after a long silence, watching Alfred. "Satisfaction comes from a job well done. As long as you're safe, I am content."

Going over to the dresser, the blond rolled his eyes. "Come on, that's what they tell you. You don't actually believe that though." It sounded like it was read from a book. He looked up at the angel, once again remembering the brief glimpses of his dream.

Oblivious to the mind of his human, Arthur reached out, pressing his fingertips to either side of Alfred's temples. "No," he murmured, his brow furrowed. "When you're healthy, when you're happy... that is my reward." His eyes traveled lower. "And when you're hurt, when you ache, it pains me in every way." With that, he brought down a closed fist to the top of Alfred's head, perhaps gentler than he could have been. "So stop hurting yourself!"

He rubbed the top of his head, even though it hadn't hurt at all and they both knew that. "But I bet you still feel happy when I can thank you." He reached into the dresser and brought out some clothes. For some reason he had gone to sleep in jeans, so he wanted to change. "Look away."

Arthur rolled his eyes, keeping them aimed toward the ceiling at Alfred's request. "You act as though I've never seen you naked before. Believe it or not, I've actually changed your diapers once or twice. Oh, it was years ago, wasn't it?" He smirked. "My boy, all those months you were in diapers, your mother would find you clean and thought it was a Godsend. She wasn't wrong." He chuckled, glancing back down once the pants were pulled up. Arthur cocked his head to the side. "You aren't going to shower?"

"Not after hearing that you changed my diapers! You'll probably look and stuff. I never knew an angel could be a closet pervert." He really wished Arthur would stop talking about when he was a baby. It always reminded him about their large age gap. It wasn't fun to be told by a cute angel that you had diarrhea all the time as a baby.

The seraph gawked. "W-what? I can respect your privacy! And I don't have a single perverted bone in my body! You were just so adorable as a baby, I couldn't stand to see you upset, and when you... oh, how did she put it... 'made a stinky', you just looked so appalled with yourself, how could I ignore that?" Arthur implored.

Alfred looked up at him, biting the inside of his cheek. "So you wouldn't want to look at me? Do you not think I'm sexy? There are plenty of women that would die to watch me shower, and a few men." Of course, he supposed Arthur would know that, since he must have been there for every time he had been confessed to.

Arthur frowned, confused. "I don't understand. Why is this a point of discussion at all when you make me avert my eyes just to let you take off your socks in private, for Heaven's sake?" Did Alfred want him to look?

"I'm not saying I want you to look. But it would be flattering if you would _want_ to look. It's like in the bathroom, you don't want the guy next to you looking at your junk, but you feel good about yourself when he is surprised by the size." He was starting to feel better, and figured the pills were kicking in.

"You lost me after the first sentence," Arthur said with a dry tone, crossing one pale leg over the other. "I've seen enough of your so eloquently termed 'junk' over the years, my boy. If it makes you feel better, I'll just float around downstairs for a tic."

He laughed, heading to the bathroom. "But what if I slip? You wouldn't be a very good guardian angel then." He was joking of course, because he wouldn't be clumsy enough to slip in the shower.

"If you do something like that, you're a lost cause anyway, and there's nothing more I can do for you." With that, he disappeared, hovering aimlessly in the hallway, his wings brushing against the walls.

Well, now that he knew Arthur wasn't there, Alfred figured he could take the chance to do something he hadn't been able to do in the hospital. After all, even if the angel said he wasn't looking, that didn't mean he couldn't hear. He got into the shower, careful to not aggravate his ribs too much. The medication helped with the pain as long as he didn't move suddenly, but they would heel better if he moved them as little as possible.

Once the warm water was flowing over his skin, he reached his hand down, palming himself. Alfred leaned against the side, still trying not to make much noise. He swore to himself that he wasn't thinking about Arthur. Just another blond man with green eyes that happened to be in an angel costume.

Obviously Arthur would know that he was bi. So maybe it wouldn't surprise him if Alfred suddenly kissed him, like in his dream. It was nice to have someone know his sexuality, and him not having to tell him. It took away the worrying of how they would react.

It was something that had never really bothered the angel. For all the abhorrent sins he had ever witnessed in England from people that were supposed to be the leaders of the nation, the preferences of one man did not even begin to compare. Of his two greatest virtues, it could be boasted that Arthur was both tolerant and patient.

However, when Alfred failed to return from the bathroom for an incredible amount of time, he began to fret. What if the boy _had_ slipped, and he was just so caught up in his own feelings that he didn't hear it? No, surely he would have felt it if that were the case... unless Alfred's pain was so great that a thought of Arthur could not even cross his mind.

In the blink of an eye, Arthur merged with the heavy steam in the bathroom air just as Alfred was moaning something that sounded suspiciously like _Arthur_.

Of course the boy had no idea that the person he was definitely not fantasizing about was in the room, so he kept up the fast pace of his hand, squeezing his balls at the same time. With another moan, he felt the pleasure rise to a crescendo, before climaxing all over his hand.

Arthur flushed a brilliant red, peeking overtop the shower curtain. N-no, Alfred was just fine, he decided, and evaporated with the steam, floating hurriedly into Alfred's bedroom. He placed a hand over his heart, feeling its wild, erratic pace, and doing his best not to think of the human, drenched in hot water, his fine endowments caressed in that b-big hand...

The rest of the shower went quickly, and in a few minutes Alfred was drying himself off. He wrapped a towel around his waist and went into his bedroom, seeing Arthur hovering above his bed. "Hey, you said you would wait downstairs. You were worried about me, weren't you?"

"No!" came Arthur's hasty reply, before a wave of guilt crashed upon him for the lie. His eyes fell, red blooming in his cheeks. "Well, I had wondered if you actually did fall at one point... b-but obviously you didn't. Good show."

He rolled his eyes and picked up his clothes, going back in the steamy bathroom to change. "You're really funny sometimes, you know." Not that he meant to be. Alfred really couldn't imagine Arthur telling a joke.

Arthur fluttered along behind him, willing himself to perhaps the height of a can of Coke, and with that, he perched himself atop Alfred's head. "I don't know how I'm supposed to take that statement," he sniffed.

Trying to see on top of his head, the American lifted his hands up and grabbed him, bringing the suddenly very tiny angel close to his face so he could see him. "Oh my God, you're so cute! I didn't know you could shrink yourself!" He looked just like a tiny doll!

The angel decided then and there that to struggle probably was to die, and so he kept perfectly still. "Er, yes, quite... please don't move me so quickly, I think I'm going to be sick."

"Sorry." But he was too interested in poking the small angel, seeing if he still felt the same. When Arthur huffed, Alfred put him back on his head, slowly. "There you go, do you like it up there?"

He grabbed two fistfuls of Alfred's hair when the human moved, holding on tightly. "Well, it would have been rather inconvenient for me if I'd been on your shoulder while you put on your shirt, wouldn't it?"

Oh right, he had been about to put on clothes. "So you did that so you could watch me change. Oh well, at least you're cute." For some reason, he didn't mind it if little doll Arthur saw him naked. He grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head and making sure that his angel was still atop his head.

"No such thing!" Arthur argued, faceplanting into the smooth, moist locks at Alfred's sudden movement. "Oof!"

Once his shirt was on, he let his towel fall to the floor and grabbed his boxers. "So can you change to any size? Like what about kid size? Cause that would be cute too! You would be the cutest kid ever! Like a five year old or something, so I can still carry you around."

Arthur frowned, blowing Alfred's cowlick out of his face. "Well, very probably, but I don't think that would be a more convenient size than this, Alfred..."

"But it would be so cute! Because yeah, now I can carry you, but you weight like what, a pound? Of course we'll have to wait till my ribs are all healed." He didn't bother putting socks on, so he just pulled his pants on, making sure not to make Arthur fall off his head.

Arthur slipped down the side of his head, using Alfred's ear for leverage before planting his rear on the mortal's shoulder, holding him around the neck. "All right. I'll show you when you're better," he conceded, the grip slippery.

He enjoyed the slight weight at his neck, Alfred decided. He went downstairs because he was hungry. "Hey, do angels eat anything? Cause I could make you something. Although at that size you would be full after eating one rice crispy."

He thought on it for a moment. "Well, it isn't necessary, but... I do enjoy a cup of tea every so often," he confessed, resting his feet on Alfred's collar bone. He looked up. "Do you have any?"

Trying to look at his shoulder, Alfred felt his eyes grow. "Oh my God! That's why mom always complained that the tea bags disappeared! She thought I used them, but I would never have that crap. No, I don't have any."

He blushed at being caught, and tried to cover it, clearing his throat. "Well, that's all right then. Just fix something for yourself."

Alfred set about making toast and some coffee. Soon he was sitting at the table and watched as Arthur bent over his coffee mug to smell it, and pull back with a frown. "You know me, shouldn't you know what I drink? And make sure you don't fall in."

Arthur looked up with a scowl, his wings rustling behind him. "My balance is impeccable, thank you very much. And I know what you drink, I just..." He glanced back at the liquid, taking a deep breath of the rich scent. "I've never had any before."

Getting up, he got a spoon and dipped it into the coffee. "Here, try some. But not too much. I have no idea what caffeine would do to a very small angel who has never had it before."

Leaning forward, his hands on the rim of the spoon, Arthur took a delicate sip of the liquid inside.

And promptly spat it back out.

"Ugh!" he cried, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist in disgust. "That's absolutely horrid! How can you stand it? Urgh..."

"You get used to it." He finished his toast and sipped at his coffee. "So, how long are you gonna stay that small? I'm not complaining, but my mom always said that if I did this too long," hHe scrunched up his nose and lifted his eyebrows, "my face would stay that way. Maybe it's the same thing for your size."

Arthur laughed at that, resting his hip against the low lip of the cup, his arms folded over his chest. "You never knew it, but when you were a young thing, I was almost always like this." His features seemed to melt with some type of euphoria. "Ahh, you were so cute. As a baby you could see me," he said, closing his eyes, a little smile on his face. "You would try to catch me, and for so long I was able to resist, but one day you surprised even me- you snatched me right out of the air in your tiny little grasp." A shudder ran through him. "You had... monstrous strength for a baby, but... but you held me so gently, despite that." He opened his eyes to look at Alfred. "Of course, it took years to convince you that I wasn't a plaything, but it was worth it in the end."

Alfred really didn't understand why he always felt so strange when Arthur would talk about when he was a baby. Perhaps it was because he still thought of him as a baby. After all, who would want to be with someone when they saw them poop their pants? But either way, he put on a happy smile. "I always did like the dolls the girls played with in school. Maybe that is why." It would make sense after all if he always had a small angel with him.

Arthur nodded, sighing happily. "Yes, but as you grew, you thought less and less about me and more about the goings on in your own life. N-not that I minded!" he said hurriedly, his cheeks reddening. "I wasn't lonely or anything! Wipe that look off your face!"

He gave a laugh and put the dishes in the sink. He could always do them later, after all. "So... you said you used to look after British royalty? What, did you get demoted to daredevils like me?" It wasn't fair that Arthur had looked after so many people, and Alfred was just a temporary job to him.

"It was more like a promotion," he said honestly before averting his eyes. "Besides, i-it's not like I was assigned to you... I picked you myself."

"Really?" Alfred asked quickly, looking over to him. Why would Arthur pick him, of all people? Not that he wasn't amazing, and handsome and all that, but he had been picked as a baby. Back then, he was all wrinkles and baby fat, and no hair at all!

"Hm? Oh." Arthur idly reached down, stirring the lukewarm coffee offhandedly with his finger. "Well, I... I'm not sure myself. I felt you in your mother's womb, and I couldn't draw myself away. You just ... you had the sweetest little soul, beautiful and gold in color, and it just drew me in like a magnet..."

Hearing Arthur explain him like that had Al waiting for him to continue. But he didn't, he just looked as if he was remembering the day, a smile on his small face. "So, are you still glad you picked me? I mean, I get into more shit than royals."

"And you smell better, too," Arthur nodded. "Sometimes." He chuckled, smiling up at the American. "Yes, of course I am. Still the same soul, isn't it? Even though your mouth runs a mile a minute, and you have the _worst_ taste in cuisine, and your strength far exceeds your brain power, and..." he continued on, happily recounting Alfred's flaws.

"Hey! Can we leave it at I have a nice soul?" The American held up his hands in defense. With someone that had literally been with him his whole life, he must have known all of Alfred's flaws. But Alfred was happy, because it seemed like he actually meant something to Arthur… more than just another human to protect.


	3. Three

Wednesday came around waaay faster than I had anticipated. So here you go, two hours before Thursday. 8D

* * *

Weeks passed in that relative comfort of borderline friendship/guardianship/something-else-entirely-ship that the two had come to terms with. Whether or not he professed to it, Arthur was happy to hold conversations with his human, whom he had known for decades. It was a little more interesting to watch the television that Alfred so loved now that he could rest so near to him, sitting daintily on the sofa, snuggled under a blanket at Alfred's insistence (despite the fact that, time and time again, he assured the mortal that he didn't _get _cold, and for an angel, a toga was perfectly suitable attire, even in winter).

It was in those moments that he could pretend to be dozing (since Alfred seemed to believe that angels did sleep, that they weren't constantly vigilant) and would rest his head against Alfred's broad shoulder, prone to leaning into him when the young man pulled him close.

One such night, Alfred was looking at the dozing angel, the movie completely forgotten. He looked so cute like that, his wings tight against his back, much smaller than when he flew. His halo was slightly crooked, so he righted it and let his hand linger in his hair. For an angel, Arthur had very messy hair. It was these imperfections that seemed to make him more human, even though he was far from that.

Careful so as not to wake him, he lifted Arthur's head and placed a small kiss on his lips. Being with him all the time had almost forced Alfred to care about him in ways that angels should never be thought of. But he did, and almost felt as if he was dirtying Arthur.

The phony sleeper had to fight not to tense up and blow his cover. It probably helped that after the initial panicky reaction came a more pleasant second reaction, which made him feel like something warm and sweet was trickling down his stomach. He did not move or make a sound; he could hardly breathe.

Quickly pulling away, Alfred once again watched whatever was on the TV. His stomach was practically jumping inside him, his breathing slightly heavier. He shouldn't have done that without Arthur's permission. Crap. He was going to Hell wasn't he? But it had felt so nice, feeling their lips together. Luckily it seemed as if the angel was still sleeping.

Unfortunately for Arthur, that wasn't the case at all. His insides raged with controversial feelings, warring with himself when all his trembling lips could think was that the kiss had ended too soon.

* * *

A few more weeks and Alfred couldn't feel any pain from his ribs, no matter how he stretched and turned. He was happy that he would no longer be unconsciously hurting Arthur as well as himself. "Hey, now that I'm back to normal you should turn to kid size. I want to carry you around!"

Arthur opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for a decent argument when he found that, strangely, he had none. "I don't see the harm in it, I suppose," he said, and closed his eyes.

The angel had never actually been a child, so to make himself appear so, he pictured in his mind vaguely Alfred's shape in the stage just before toddlerhood, whereupon he had been able coordinate his feet to walk just fine, but he had that adorable lisp for the choppy sentences that had begun to relay, and... and Arthur was forgetting to shift. He did his best to focus on the shape and in a short moment, he had shrunk to a fifth of his normal size. The toga pooled around at his feet and he raised his chubby arms to assess the situation. Glancing up (and up and up) at Alfred, he blinked. "Is this right?"

"Oh my God you are so cute!" Alfred exclaimed, picking him up under his arms. "This is actually cuter than when you are really small! Hey, we should totally go out for Halloween with you looking like this. You would get so much candy!" The toga was hanging off him, the strap barely on, and it just covered his nether regions. He wondered if angels even had stuff down there. Arthur was balling his little fists up, trying to pull it up and keep himself more covered. "Why didn't your dress shrink too? That's what it does when you go really small."

Arthur's eyes widened. He blushed, looking away, his tiny wings trembling. "I must have forgotten to change the size of it... I've never been a child before, so..." He frowned. His voice was all weird now, too; higher than normal, distinctly child-like. "And don't use me for your holiday sugar hunts!"

He put Arthur on his shoulders, so he could ride along. "Ok, no Halloween. How about I get you a bow and arrow, and rent you out for Valentine's Day? Kidding! No one would believe you were cupid anyway. You would never spread love." He laughed, feeling a tug on his hair.

The little angel squawked, bopping the top of Alfred's head with his tiny fist. "How rude! I'm plenty loving!" he argued, burrowing his face into the human's hair. "You're just saying that to spite me!"

"Aw don't be mad. Right now you're too cute to be mad! I mean, being that small, you can hardly notice your eyebrows." He took Arthur off his shoulders so he couldn't pull his hair anymore, and rested him against his hip, holding him with one hand. "Oh, and my brother's coming in about half an hour."

Doing his best to forget how many times in the past five minutes he'd been called "cute", Arthur squirmed on Alfred's hip, not knowing where to put his hands. "I'll get out of your way, then," he nodded.

Holding him tighter as he bent down to pick up some clothes, Alfred shrugged. "He won't be here for half an hour. You can just disappear when he gets here. Unless we want him thinking he suddenly has a nephew."

Arthur blinked, a smirk slowly blooming on his lips. He snickered. "Matthew's far too smart to believe that the likes of you would father a child, Alfred."

"Hey! Remember when I was dating Katyusha? There were a few pregnancy scares there." Luckily they all turned out to be false. It was just sometimes, she would forget to take her pill, and then they would worry.

Arthur's eyes rolled up to the ceiling as he thought back through Alfred's many conquests. "Katyusha, Katyusha..." He looked at Alfred, cupping his hands out far beyond his chest, raising an eyebrow. "That Katyusha?"

"Yup. If it wasn't for her overprotective brother, we might still be dating." More specifically, if it weren't for him _banging_ her overprotective brother they would still be dating. "It was great falling asleep on her boobs." Well, as long as she didn't roll over. Then he woke up fighting for breath. Maybe at those times, it had been Arthur that had woken him up. "Hey, does my brother have a guardian angel?"

Arthur glanced down. "... I don't know if I should say..." But he had never heard any rules against it, so... perhaps it was all right? "Well, I'll say this much; he used to inhabit that electronic talking polar bear out of laziness." The younger blond had taken it everywhere he went, so resting and watching inside the toy had required no extra effort on Matthew's angel's part.

Picturing it, Alfred laughed. "I always did feel like it was looking at me. But what does he need an angel for, he never takes chances." Although he did get sick more than most people. He wasn't as bad as Al had been as a little child, but he did still get sick.

Arthur pulled the slipping toga back up. "Mmm, yes, but his loneliness has always been crippling." He thought back to the last conversation he'd had with Francis, Matthew's seraph (who had taken on the language of his past favorite protectorate. The French one... Joanne d'Arc, if he remembered correctly.). "But I think things are looking up. Something about a German with red eyes and a syrup addiction like no other..."

"Yeah, he told me about it. Well, kinda. All he said was he was with a German, and to never use syrup as lube." He looked around the room, wondering if he should clean up a bit. But it's not like Mattie had never seen his room, so he already knew he was a pig.

Pretending he hadn't heard such a thing before, Arthur wriggled and squirmed until Alfred put him down. He hiked up the pristine white cloth in his arms, and with a tiny 'pop' he had returned to normal. Righting his halo, Arthur shooed Alfred off. "I'll tidy up, you go put on some pants." Before Alfred could argue, Arthur scowled sternly. "Don't. Boxers are undergarments, and therefor do not qualify as decent attire for company."

Grumbling under his breath, Alfred made his way upstairs. "It's my brother, he's not really company." But he still grabbed a pair of jeans and slipped them on. It was too bad Arthur couldn't stay that small for longer. Could he get any bigger? But if he could, why would he stay so short? When he was on the floor, the angel was at least two or three inches shorter than him.

The angel in question had the entire downstairs spotless in a minute flat, smiling to himself when a messy pile of work documents organized themselves on the coffee table.

And then, rather suddenly, the topmost file errantly flew off the table and landed on the carpet a foot away. Frowning, Arthur finally sensed a second, rather irritating presence in the room a split second before the doorbell rang.

"Coming!" Alfred ran downstairs, still buckling his belt. Shit, he should have known Matthew would come early. He quickly checked to make sure Arthur was invisible before opening the door.

The new angel laughed at Arthur. "_Bonjour_~ It is so nice to see you again." He went to kiss both of Arthur's cheeks, but was shoved away.

"Ugh. I should have known," Arthur groaned, moving as far from the long-haired guardian as possible. He perched on the banister, near to Alfred and his brother. Matthew looked well, far better than normal, even; there was a distinct color in his cheeks, and his eyes were... brighter. Happier.

"Good morning, Al," the younger man said, smiling as the elder engulfed him in a bone-crushing embrace.

Pulling away, Alfred smiled and led his brother to the living room. "How are you? It's been too long! How long are you in town for?" They had grown up in another state, and Alfred had moved away, so he didn't see his family often. But that made it all the better when he saw them.

Matthew made himself comfortable on the plush sofa, smiling and chatting with his brother, bringing him up to date on current information, but only after pestering him at length about the accident. Unfortunately for Arthur, the chatterbox at _his_ side was not a sweet young man, but rather... Francis.

"Can you please stop breathing in my general vicinity?" he deadpanned, defying gravity and sliding farther up the banister when Francis moved closer, a smirk on that stupid bearded face.

Scratching his lightly bearded chin, Francis just moved closer. "Oh you know you love it, _amour_. Besides, I at least smell better than your human." He laughed, running his fingers through his hair. Even for an angel, it was extremely silky.

Arthur sneered. "In your dreams, wino. Alfred doesn't fester inside an annually-washed stuffed toy like someone I could name." He poked at Francis' face with an outstretched toe. "Right, go no further."

He sighed dramatically and looked over to the two on the couch. "He hugs that bear so tightly." Then he looked to Arthur, pointing a finger at him. "At least _I_ didn't let my human get into a wreck. What, were you distracted seeing yourself in the mirror, and couldn't believe you could actually look like that?"

Arthur flinched. "Th-that wasn't... you know we can't just stop every little bad thing that happens to them! And b-besides, he's fine, isn't he?" he asked, looking himself just for reassurance.

"I wouldn't let my Matthieu get hurt like that. And even though you let him get in an accident, you clean up after him? You know how dangerous that would be if he noticed." He had also been curious why Arthur had been visible. But, even in their visible form most humans just saw some flickering in the air. They never wanted to believe in something supernatural.

The shorter angel's lips thinned into a tight line. If there was anyone he could tell, it would be Francis; despite their constant bickering, the vain blond was the only one who had ever cared to get close to Arthur, even if it was just to annoy him on a constant basis.

"... He... he figured it out, Francis."

There was a moment's confusion before the French angel's eyes widened. "Oh, _mon dieu_! How did this happen? Have you been Called? They usually take away the angel and erase the human's memory as soon as you tell them." Like what had happened with his dear Sophi.

Arthur shook his head, regarding the brothers below. "No, not yet... Alfred... he's known since he was just a lad, Francis, and he's always been somewhat aware, at least in the back of his mind. In the hospital, he even called me out, just like it was a normal thing to do. And he's been doing it since!"

The elder angel put a stern hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Do you mean you haven't told them?" He waited for the reluctant shake, and then sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. "You must realize that He knows. He knows everything. He just wants to give us a chance to come clean. If you don't come clean..." He didn't even want to think of the consequences.

Arthur pouted. "I know that! But... but I think that maybe it's different." He gave Francis an earnest look. "Maybe, maybe He intended for it to be this way. You've seen Alfred's soul, Francis; he's different. Special. Surely He made him so with an equally special purpose in mind."

His blue eyes darkened. "You have always been much more attached to this one. I remember, when Matthieu was first born, I saw you laying next to Alfred while he was sleeping, and you were touching his hair with a smile." Since they both used to guard people of importance, they had run into one another quite a few times. But he had never seen Arthur so attached to a human before.

"He's special," Arthur repeated with sureness, his attention turned at Alfred's boisterous laughter. "I was blessed this time around, Francis." He looked up. "And what about you? How is yours coming along? It's a relief to see him look so... alive."

Still looking at him wearily, Francis diverted his attention to his own human. "_Oui_. It is all thanks to Gilbert. Luckily, he is a man of my own heart, so I am perfectly fine with him being with Matthieu." He was still worried about Arthur, but it was not his place.

"It's good that he's happy. Just make sure... Gilbert, was it? Make sure he doesn't hurt the poor lad." Arthur's smile sobered. He avoided Francis' eyes. "Oh, don't look at me like that," he murmured, running a hand through his hair. "I know the consequences if I'm wrong. I know what's at stake."

"I hope you do." It probably wouldn't be as bad as losing your wings, but it would still be severe. They would only take your wings if you committed a true sin. Francis was lucky himself, Gabriel had a soft spot for him, so his minor sins were usually overlooked.

Arthur could practically see what was going on in Francis' mind and he promptly pushed the other off the banister. He didn't want to have to be reminded of it from another when he thought about it enough all on his own. "Go wash your beard, Frenchy, it's starting to grow stale!"

He gasped and his hands flew to his chin. "That is not true! It is in perfect condition! I wish the same could be said of your _sourcils_!" He was flying just over the heads of the humans, and went back over to where Arthur was. It wasn't often now that he got to speak to someone.

Despite the fact that he understood perfectly what the other had said, Arthur sneered. "I'm sorry, I don't speak wanker. Say it in perfect English!"

"_Non_!" He liked the French language much more than the English one, anyway. Occasionally he would guard someone outside of France, which is how he got Matthew, for a change of scenery, but he especially enjoyed being in Paris. Maybe one day he should try to convince Matthew to take Gilbert there on vacation...

Arthur cackled, laughter pouring from his belly. Ah, it really had been too long. Smirking at Francis and wiped a mirthful tear from his eye. "Sorry," he said, a smile in his very tone. "I was just imagining the look on poor Matthew's face if he knew that a creepy Frenchy was looking over him nonstop."

Crossing his arms, Francis landed on the ground. "I would never do anything to him. I just like the feel of him hugging me when I am in his bear!" He would never do anything to the ones he guards over. Occasionally he may peek, but he didn't stare at them like he did when trying to see up a woman's shirt. He might have been perverted, but he would never use one of his humans.

"Oh, aren't you just a right saint, then?" Arthur teased, floating off the banister. "He does look rather huggable. Sort of squishy, even."

"At least I know when to tell the Lord something when I am supposed to," the French angel hissed. He didn't like other people talking about his Matthieu.

"Like He isn't already omniscient," Arthur responded, rolling his eyes. He could understand Francis' touchiness, though, as far as Alfred was concerned. An angel's human was a sacred thing.

Taking out a brush, Francis started idly pulling it through his golden locks. "But as I said, he would rather we come to Him and tell Him ourselves." He governed his angels much like he did the humans. But if angels messed up, the consequences were usually more severe.

"I..." He paused, staring at the suddenly terribly interesting wall. "I haven't done anything wrong," he said. "Not yet. If I do... no, if there is even the slightest chance that I might, I will go to Him."

Francis gave a nod and put the brush back. "Alright. As long as you make sure you do. Now that we have that dealt with, why didn't you mention anything about my new toga? I of course had to hem it, because it wasn't short enough to show off my wonderful legs."

Arthur rolled his eyes and chose to ignore him, drifting down to the brothers below. He crossed his legs, floating a couple of feet above the coffee table.

"So you're sure this guy isn't forcing you? Cause if he is I would so kick his ass." Alfred knew now that Matthew had his own guardian angel, but nothing could measure up to a good beat down if someone touched his little brother. He was just a few years out of high school!

Matthew laughed a little nervously, knowing full well that Alfred wasn't exaggerating or putting on airs. "Al, really. He's very nice. He wanted to come this weekend, but his younger brother is getting married over in Germany, so he had to fly down early to help coordinate. I'm going in a few days."

Standing up quickly, Alfred gasped. "What? You can't go to Germany! They started the World Wars! They're evil! And they'll make you eat wurst! Seriously, nothing that tastes good would be called wurst!" He couldn't let his sweet innocent little brother go to that beer guzzling country!

"Calm down," he said softly, holding up his hands. "You're overreacting; everything's going to be just fine." Matthew smiled. "I trust Gilbert with my life. You know how much that means to me, Al."

Alfred sighed and sat back down. "If anything happens, you call me and I'm flying over there, you hear?" That guardian angel had better be a good one.

Matthew let out a quiet chuckle of relief and nodded, his wheat-colored hair falling over pale cheeks. "Without hesitation." He took one of Alfred's couch pillows and pulled it into his lap, squeezing. "So, what about your love life? You haven't mentioned anyone lately."

He coughed into his hand, looking down. "No, there's no one. Wow, are those new shoes? They look pretty badass." It couldn't really be called a love life, anyway. Just because he really liked Arthur and occasionally stole kisses when he was sleeping didn't mean he loved him.

"Yes," Matthew replied drily. "I've only had them since I was fourteen. Come on, Al, there's something you're not telling me." He tossed the pillow at Alfred's head. "C'mon, tell me, please?"

"Fine fine!" He looked around, but of course he didn't see Arthur anywhere. He leaned closer to Matthew and whispered in his ear, "I kinda met someone... when I was in the hospital. But it hasn't gone anywhere yet and it probably never will, so I don't want to tell anyone about it."

"In the hospital?" Matthew repeated out loud, unaware of Alfred's plight. "Ow, hey, why are you hitting me? It was just a question, geez!"

He put his finger to his mouth, really hoping Arthur wasn't listening. "I said I don't want anyone to know! So be quiet!" Crap, Arthur knew everything about him, obviously he would know that he hadn't met anyone else in the hospital.

Matthew frowned, batting his hand away. "Unless you're stowing someone away under the stairs, there's no way anyone else is going to hear! You don't need to assault me just because you're paranoid!"

"Well you should just assume that if I'm whispering, I don't want you yelling it all around the house!" He should remember that from when they were kids! Of course Matthew didn't know that there were other ears in the room.

"For the love of..." He sighed, resigning himself. "Fine. So can you tell me about it if we whisper?"

Arthur -who, for the most part, had only been half listening up to that point, mostly just making faces at Francis who circled above- perked up when he realized that something secretive was going on. Shrinking himself to the height of a soda can, Arthur perched himself on the air above Alfred's shoulder, leaning up into the conversation.

The older brother bit his lip and nodded. Yeah sure, that should be fine. It wasn't like Arthur would be right by his ear. So he leaned into Matthew and once again whispered into his ear. "Ok, well it's a guy, and he is super cute! Like... as cute as a three year old! Um, he kinda helped me in the crash... But I shouldn't tell you his name. Anything else you want to know?"

The angel frowned. Super cute guy...? What on earth could they be discussing that a... three-year-old-looking man was a point in conversation? He shushed Francis as the elder angel landed on Matthew's shoulder, as though he would blow Arthur's cover.

"Anything else?" Matthew repeated, remembering to drop his voice to a whisper. "Well... have you gotten anywhere with this guy?"

Blushing a little, Alfred shook his head. "No!" Then he remembered to whisper. "I mean, I kinda kissed him a few times, but he was sleeping." And he was so cute when he slept.

Francis was rubbing his face into Matthew's hair. He may have had a little influence in him growing it so long, but the silkiness was completely the boy's doing. He hardly needed any product to keep it like this, but the angel loved it. Being so close however, he also heard what they were talking about. It was pretty obvious that Alfred had a crush on Arthur, but what was he talking about? Angels didn't sleep.

To Arthur, though, it clicked within a moment. His face burned a brilliant red. He felt so hot that he was sure Alfred could have felt it.

Matthew turned a little red, too. "Al, that's so... so..." He made a face. "So sweet and underhanded. If you care about him that much, you should just tell him."

"No, I can't. He... well he wouldn't feel the same. He's too pure." He couldn't tell an angel he loved him. It was just too wrong, and anyway Arthur said he didn't feel the need for sexual pleasure. They couldn't really have a relationship without something.

But Matthew made a disbelieving noise. "Are you really going to lie to me so blatantly, Al? Like I don't remember all of your public _and_ private conquests? I know your type. You don't go for... what was it? Purity?" He ran a hand through his hair, his long, looping curl bouncing along with the motion. "Now, come on. You sounded so serious up until that point."

He laughed at that, tucking Matthew's hair behind his ear. "You need to show your face more. But I'm not lying, he is pure. I mean, he doesn't act pure, but he is." So what if it didn't make sense to Matthew, it would make sense if he knew Arthur was an angel.

It was confusing, to say the least, but since the look in Alfred's eyes was so hopelessly earnest, Matthew found that he didn't quite have the heart to question him.

"I see. Well... not really. But I guess, as long as you're happy, Al." He poised himself to stand and get some coffee, but paused. "... _Are_ you happy?"

Alfred smiled and got up as well. "Yeah, I am." How could he not be happy, being with the one he loved all the time? He was even here somewhere, though he wasn't sure where. Maybe he was talking with Matthew's angel. He wanted to know what he was like, but he doubted he could meet him.

Arthur was avoiding Francis' eyes like the plague, burying his face into Alfred's shirt as the young man went about making coffee with his brother. He hoped to high Heaven that the frog wouldn't catch on, his tiny wings jostling nervously. And Alfred... saying those things... didn't he know that they could only fill Arthur with a silly, embarrassing happiness?

The older angel was however glaring over at Arthur. He left Matthew's shoulder, flew over and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him away. "What's wrong with you? You let him kiss you? And why did he think you were sleeping anyway,,,?"

The shorter angel made a noise, trying to wriggle away. "Shut up! It was his own problem! I just closed my eyes- I never told him that angels sleep! He must've come to the conclusion on his own!"

"Well you didn't exactly tell him differently. Make sure it goes no further." He had been known to take a few kisses of his own, but it always stopped there. Angels committing sins was never a good idea.

"I-I know that!" he said, angry and hurt. Arthur slapped Francis' hand away and flew to Alfred's room above, slipping into his sock drawer and burrowing himself among the clean bundles. The angel hugged his knees to his chest and rested his forehead against them, groaning quietly. Alfred's sensitivity was going to get them both in trouble, he just knew it.

Trusting the humans not to do anything that might endanger themselves while making coffee, Francis flew upstairs as well. He found the other angel, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Look, I understand. I have been in love as well. But you must see what position you are putting yourself in. If you both love each other, you will never be able to go anywhere, he will never be able to tell anyone about you. And if you _do_ go farther... well, we both know what would happen."

The shorter blond shook his head, shaggy hair brushing against his knees.

"Shut up," he mumbled, low and thick. "Shut up, shut up. I know." The words cracked in his throat and came out all wrong. "I've known for years. I knew he was special, and... and I was right." He looked up, deep shades of jade drowning in bitter sadness. "What am I supposed to do?"

Shrugging, Francis looked around the drawer of socks. It was a shame, they were all such bland colours. "Do what we are supposed to do. Watch after him. Don't start worrying about things before they happen. _C'est la vie_, after all."

Arthur's lips parted with a response that died on his lips. He thought in the silent sock drawer for a long moment before it resurrected. "Surely, you understand," he implored quietly. "If young Matthew could see you... if he could talk with you, laugh with you, touch you... how could you turn him away?" Arthur looked down. Alfred had taken to calling him out at his beck and call; how was he supposed to just ignore those sweet, impossibly blue eyes?

"_Non_, my Matthieu is much too innocent for me to ever do anything like that with him. I can be called a pervert, but I would never think of my charges that way." He wrinkled his nose. Even though these socks were clean, they were still rather stinky. He probably never even used fabric softener! "But we should get back to them. I would not trust your Alfred with my Matthieu when they are drinking burning hot coffee."

The rest of the day was spent as normal, for the most part. Arthur bickered with Francis, a slight edge of tension pulling at their words like twine, but they bickered all the same. He was relieved more than he probably knew when night fell and, after a few rounds of those horror films that Alfred had never been able to stand, when Matthew finally convinced his older brother to unfold him from his grasp, and made his way to the guest bathroom to prepare for bed.

Arthur found himself back in the sock drawer for the second time that day, this time out of cowardice. He needed to be close to Alfred. And yet, the drawer shielded him from Alfred's undeniable eyes, and he could always pretend that he couldn't hear the young man... ever again... He buried his face in his hands.

There was no way he was going to be able to do this. 


	4. Four

Once he was ready for bed, Alfred started looking for Arthur. "Where are you? We've been through this enough times, haven't we? You must enjoy playing hide and seek." He wasn't as loud as he usually was though, because he didn't want Matthew to hear. But he could still tell his angel was in the room.

A thrill ran through Arthur's body, and his invisible wings trembled to their tips. He held a pair of argyle gray socks to him, resting his face in the wool. He wrinkled his nose. It smelled like Alfred and detergent. And maybe feet.

Looking around the room, Alfred noticed that his sock drawer was closed, and he never closed his drawers. He had grown adept at finding Arthur's hiding places. So he silently crept up to it and flung it open. "There you are!" He saw him buried in the piles of socks. He was so cute!

Arthur flinched. He must have become visible again without realizing it. That kid was always screwing him up. "You can't see me!" he called out, well aware that his voice must have been a tiny squeak.

"Yeah I can, you're right there. So did you have fun with Mattie's angel? What's he like? Is he a good guardian?" Because if he was, he wouldn't need to worry about his brother going to Germany. He moved the socks so he could fully see Arthur, who was trying to pull them over himself again.

Arthur frowned and disappeared with a pop.

He needed to disappear forever to convince Alfred that he meant business, that he wouldn't always fall for those eyes, that smile. He needed to know. And maybe disappearing was the only way he could prove it.

Sighing, Alfred poked around in the socks. He was probably still there, after all. "Come on Arthur, don't be difficult. You know I'm not going to sleep till I say goodnight." Why was he acting up like this again?

With the way he was moving his arm around, Arthur knew it would be too much of a risk to try and worm his way out so, with all of the persuasion in his little body, Arthur held out his hands and willed Alfred's arm to retract. He held his breath, pushing with all of his will.

Taking his hand out, Alfred pouted. "Artie, please, I haven't talked with you for hours. I miss you!" Sure, when he went to work he couldn't really talk to him, but every once in a while he would go to the bathroom just to see him.

But Arthur wouldn't have it. He shook his head, knowing that Alfred couldn't see him, and hid himself away in the farthest corner, in case he lost his wits again and turned visible. Why couldn't Alfred just understand that this was the way it had to be? It had been like this for all the years of his life; a few months' difference shouldn't matter too much. They just _shouldn't_.

"Please?" Alfred asked, starting to worry. Arthur usually showed up soon after he started looking for him. Why was he staying invisible? He had seen him, so he knew he was still there. He sat down on his bed, still looking at his sock drawer.

The angel bit his lip, knowing he shouldn't have peeked. The look on Alfred's face wasn't an unfamiliar one; lost, confused, unsure. He had never liked that look. It was practically instinct just to soothe him with touches and angel kisses, fingers through his hair, the whole nine yards. He forced himself to look away.

Why wasn't he showing up? Did he no longer like him? Alfred bit his fingernail, a habit he thought he had outgrown. Was he ever going to see him again? He needed to see him, he really did. Feeling tears prickle at his eyes, he tried to keep them at bay. He couldn't cry, he just couldn't.

Arthur's heart clenched and his throat tightened, and it was then that he knew that he was beyond saving. In the blink of an eye and a hasty chime of bells, he was before the young man, cradling his face in his hands and wiping an escaped tear from the corner of his eye, apologizing profusely, trying to explain himself in garbled English and failing miserably.

As soon as he saw him, Alfred gasped in air in relief. "There you are. Why did you do that?" He touched Arthur's cheek, smiling. God, he felt so much better now. It scared him slightly how attached he had become to the angel so soon. But, he figured, it hadn't really been soon. It had been like he was reunited with someone he knew as a child. He knew deep down that they were supposed to be together. Arthur held his face, shaking his head and leaning forward until his forehead touched Alfred's. "I hadn't wanted this," he said mournfully. "I had... had hoped that you wouldn't be able to deduce where I was... ever, and maybe eventually just give up... forever, and then I could just... just watch over you in a one-sided fashion a-and... well, in hind-sight it was a rather flimsy plan, but at least it was a start!"

"But why? Why did you want me to give up looking for you?" It seemed strange, why would that matter? Wasn't Arthur happy that they could talk now?

The angel swallowed thickly. The words he spoke were quiet, low and soft, a tiptoe beyond a whisper. "Why do you think it would be a problem for a messenger of God and one of his children to be so close, Alfred?"

Never having regularly gone to church, Alfred shrugged. "We're both like His creations, and stuff. Besides we're perfect for each other! It must be way easier to watch after me now that you can just tell me to do or not do something." He didn't want them to go back to what it used to be. He needed Arthur now.

With a groan, Arthur shook his head against Alfred's, and the green-eyed angel pulled back just far enough to lightly brush his lips against Alfred's forehead. "Oh, poppet, you're so young and sweet. It makes being with you too, too easy." He looked up wearily. "That's not a good thing, you know."

But he smiled anyway, the feeling of the kiss on his forehead lingering. "But you'll stay? Well obviously you have to stay, but I mean stay visible?" He reached his hand up, lightly touching the feathers of Arthur's wings. "Please?"

Arthur ho-hummed, stroking Alfred's hair absentmindedly. "I won't promise anything, Alfred, but I... I'll do my best. No funny business, though. Neither of us want the consequences He can dish out, I'm afraid."

"Funny business? But I'm funny all the time! Hilarious even! I mean some days I can even make you laugh!" Alfred was feeling much better, and laid down on his bed, pulling Arthur with him. "I'm tired, will you sleep with me?"

"Oof! Watch it!" His wings sprawled out behind him and flopped around uncomfortably, and Arthur could not find a comfortable spot for a few moments, one arm splayed over Alfred's chest, the other under a pillow, lying somewhere on the ambiguous tilt of his body between his side and stomach.

Getting himself comfortable in a few seconds, Alfred watched Arthur struggle. "I bet you would be better off if you were kid sized again." After all, he had only gotten about half an hour with him that size. He had spent a lot of time with the angel at his smallest size.

Arthur gave him a puzzled look, his head cocked slightly to the side. "... Well, you might be right." He closed his eyes, picturing the size, and then with a pop, he had returned to the childlike state. "Oh, drat! I forgot about the toga again!"

Laughing, the American watched Arthur pulling it up and around himself more, before it was as small as he was. "Great, now you're perfect for cuddling! If you were really small, I would worry I would roll on to you." He wrapped his arms around the angel and put the small head on his chest, already nodding off to sleep.

With short, plump fingers and a light heart, he combed his hand through Alfred's hair, and spent the rest of the night watching his human sleep.

.oOo.

The next night, the last one that Matthew would be spending with him, Alfred insisted on going out. He had been spending so much time at home lately, because really that was the only place he could be with Arthur, that he needed to get out and have some fun. "I haven't been to this bar yet, but I've heard a lot of good things about it."

"Oh?" Matthew replied inquisitively. He smiled. "Is your... friend going, too?" he asked, digging in his travel bag for his toothbrush.

Scratching the back of his head, Alfred shrugged. "Umm, I don't know. He might be there, I mean it's a free country right?" Even though he knew perfectly well that Arthur was going to be there. But if he said that yes, he would be there, Matthew would want to meet him.

"Oh, bother," Arthur huffed, watching the two go about brushing their teeth from atop the shower curtain. "And I was so enjoying how peaceful it was when he stayed cooped up in this house." He sighed. Alfred had always been such a socialite, bouncing from one event to the next, always had plans, rarely made it home before eleven, that sort of thing. The relative peace and quiet, he'd thought, had been so good for the boy. And now Alfred was going to a bar, probably clubbing or something after, and would exhaust Arthur to the point that he was dying for the rules to switch about so that angels could, in fact, sleep.

Once they were finished in the bathroom, they both got dressed. But when they came out of their bedrooms and Alfred got a look at his brother, he shook his head. "There is no way you're going out looking like that." He pushed Matthew into his own room and looked through his own clothes.

He found a blood red shirt that would be tight enough to show off Matt's body, but not enough so that it would limit his movement. His pants weren't too bad, but he tugged them down a little bit. When Matthew protested, Alfred shook his finger at him. "Come on, we look the same, so if people see you at a bar they might think you're me. I don't want them seeing me not looking sexy." The last touch was hair spray, so that his long hair would look like it was still a little bit wet. Last but not least, a silver chain that showed just a bit before going under the collar of the shirt.

Matthew's eyebrows rose and he made to poke himself all over. "Wow. Um, Al..." He glanced up. "Gilbert can never know, okay? He'll want me to do stuff like this all the time, and..." He wriggled a bit, pulling the shirt down. "I really like my loose, comfortable clothes, yeah?"

"But what if I just happen to take a picture and accidentally send it to him? He deserves to know the full sexy potential of his boyfriend!" He honestly had an ulterior motive for this night. With Arthur always there, he had been getting more and more horny, and he rarely jerked off because Arthur was usually there. So he was hoping that he could get some lovin' tonight. After all, dancing with his brother at clubs had always worked well in the past, so why not now?

Matthew made a face and his lips curved into a frown. "I'll break your phone before that happens," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

Luckily for him, though, he didn't see Alfred flash his phone out, not even to tease him, for the entire night. Once in the club, they didn't so much split up as they drifted apart, near enough to each other to be able to lock eyes (and thank goodness for Alfred's protective streak, because Matthew would have likely been carried away by a few rather burley men in their prime without his assistance), and far enough to not, as Alfred might have said, to cramp the other's style.

When Arthur had realized that this was one of _those _bars, he promptly buried his face in his hands as Francis looked on, amused and bewildered.

"_Magnifique_, I have never been to a place like this before! Matthieu usually stays out of them, but I have always been curious! It amazes me with how much sin humans can get away with, but we can hardly do anything." He watched as one smallish man, drink in hand, was full out kissed by another man. "Are they all homosexual?" He asked, a little surprised that Matthieu would come here. They had been to dances and the like before, but nowhere as sinful as this place.

Arthur cursed Francis for how luckily, blissfully ignorant he was. "No," he answered, "not all. Most, but not all. Some of the normal lot come with their friends, and some are just curiously heterosexual, but... oh, can't we discuss something else? I'd rather not talk about it."

"_D'accord_, doesn't Matthieu look amazing like this? That Alfred of yours truly has fashion sense."

_That Alfred of his_ was currently grinding against some guy. He figured Arthur wouldn't be in the crowd, so it wasn't like he would see that he was painfully hard, or that his hand was grabbing the guy's butt.

He could see his brother dancing as well, but he was careful to avoid everyone and say no to anyone who made a pass. But as Alfred's eyes slipped past his brother to over his shoulder, he gasped in recognition.

No, Arthur was not in the crowd, but a certain Russian was. Ivan made his way through the crowd, his eyes set on Alfred, smiling as icily as always. The young man in Alfred's grasp balked at his sheer size, and with the look Ivan gave him, he quickly made his way into the throng, out of sight and (hopefully) out of mind.

"I did not expect to meet you here, Alfred," Ivan said, his voice as sweet and hard as sugar.

"Yeah, what's it been, four years?" He yelled above the noise. He hadn't seen him since he and Katyusha broke up, because he and Ivan had slept together. He still looked as masculine as ever, his scarf falling over his defined pecks that jutted out from his thin shirt. You could even see his nipples.

Ivan tilted his head to the side, his smile frosty. "You have a little problem," he pointed out in his burbling accent. Sliding a hand down Alfred's wrist, he tugged him close, feeling for himself the direct mold of Alfred's aching erection. "We will dance, da?"

Alfred almost melted at that sexy accent. It had been one of the reasons he had agreed to sleep with Ivan in the first place. Other than that accent, the big guy was creepy. The American started dancing with him, or more specifically grinding his ass into his crotch.

Ivan firmly gripped the American's hips, moving with him to the throb and pulse of the music, and leaned close to chuckle into Alfred's ear. "Eager, aren't you? Have you been lonely, Alfred?"

Tilting his head back so that the big guy could hear him, Alfred gave a laugh. "I'm never lonely. There's nothing wrong with wanting to dance!" And a bit more than dance. He reached up and pulled Ivan's head down so that they could kiss. He _really _hoped Arthur wasn't watching.

The angel, who had been avoiding watching the goings-on most fervently, only glanced over at Francis' prompting. He followed the point of his finger to the center of the convulsing dance and flashing lights. His heart leapt in his throat before sinking low into his stomach.

There was the large, sickeningly familiar Russian, smirking and melding his thin lips against Alfred's. And Alfred was leading the kiss.

After about another minute of grinding and kissing, Alfred had just about as much as he could take. He turned around and grabbed Ivan's hand, tugging him to the back of the dance floor where the bathroom was. He tried to blend into the crowd as much as possible, so that even if Arthur _was_ watching, he would lose him.

Before long, Ivan caught on, and with a smirk he pulled Alfred into a stall, locking the door behind and yanking the blond in for a hard kiss, made more of teeth than lips. Alfred started hurriedly undoing his pants, because his zipper was already getting painful. Once that was done, he circled Ivan's torso with his arms, running his hands under his shirt. He remembered from last time that the Russian felt self-conscious if he had his shirt off though, so he didn't pull it up.

Trailing bites along Alfred's neck, Ivan shoved him against the wall of the stall and cupped him roughly. "You want it, da?" he said, his voice a thick and heady mixture of Russian and lust.

"God yes," he breathed, the coolness of the wall feeling good on his back. He could feel Ivan's hand on his cock, even though it wasn't even in his boxers. Alfred pushed his pants down to his ankles, not wanting to take the time to take off his shoes and then his jeans.

Ivan wasted no time with theatrics, sliding down to his knees and engulfing Alfred's cock in one smooth motion. Humming lightly, the very corners of his mouth twitched in a would-be smirk when the American above groaned. He pulled back to the cockhead, nibbling on the foreskin before swallowing him, inch by inch, tonguing along the dark vein as he went.

He tangled his fingers in Ivan's hair, panting heavily. "Fuck, you're good with your mouth." Alfred couldn't stop the small thrusts his hips kept making, his manhood continuously encased in that wet heat.

The Russian chuckled, low and deep, reveling in the shiver it wracked through Alfred's body. Whilst his teeth made themselves useful skimming along sensitive skin, his hand slipped beneath the hem of his unbuttoned jeans, making a beeline toward his own cock. Ivan groaned, stroking himself to an off-rhythm, countering his licks.

Alfred looked down with hazy eyes, watching the movements of Ivan's hand. Because he was still in his pants, he couldn't see much, but he was blessed with a vivid imagination. He felt his cock twitch at the thought, until it was replaced with the image of Arthur watching this. No, he couldn't be here, could he?

In fact, he was staring, with a horrid, rapt attention over the top of the stall. Inside he was churning, sickened by the sight and the scent and the nauseous thumping of his own tired heart.

It wasn't as though Arthur had never seen Alfred engage in such activities with anyone- in fact, the very man currently... attaching himself to Alfred's extremities was no one new to Arthur, and their acts were only too commonplace. But somehow in the last few months, he had somewhere in his mind begun to believe, without rhyme or reason, that Alfred had changed. That maybe he wouldn't need to seek out carnal pleasures with just anyone he could get his hands on. That he would be content with Arthur's company.

Obviously he had thought wrong.

With the thought of Arthur now in his mind, Alfred couldn't get him out. He kept thinking of the pink nipples he would see when Arthur would shrink and forget his toga, he thought of when Arthur flew overhead and Alfred caught sight of his pure white undergarments. He could almost feel himself getting harder than he already was, if it was possible at all, and he found himself brought to the brink much earlier than usual. Holding Ivan's head, he let himself go, both his groin and his mouth. "_Ahhhrthur_!"

While Arthur, who had turned away, started violently at that, Ivan seemed to take it in stride, spitting Alfred's seed out into the toilet and finishing himself with a few quick tugs and a grunt. Standing, he wiped his hand off on a strip of toilet paper, his eyes as frozen as they always were.

"Why is it," he asked, brushing the sweat-slick blond bangs from Alfred's forehead, "that you can never be satisfied with the one you are with, hmm?"

He left the stall before a response could be uttered, washing his hands of the white fluid, not minding the shorter, random blushing youth washing his hands beside him who had likely heard the entire affair.

Closing his eyes, Alfred put the lid down on the toilet and sat down. God, he was such a creep. Why did he have to go and say Arthur's name? He put his head in his hands, slightly disgusted with himself. This whole scene just proved even more that he wasn't good enough for the angel. Why would God give him a guardian angel if He knew that he would grow up to be such a pervert?

After a minute, he cleaned himself up and went out of the stall, washing his hands as well. He needed to get out of here. And, hopefully Matthew was done with dancing, so they could get out of the club and go home. He was physically satisfied, maybe not emotionally, but it would have to do.

The youth in question had had his eye out for Alfred for at least seven minutes. Matthew wondered if anyone else was having this sort of trouble; the big, burly, bear-type trouble. The travel-in-packs-and-surround-seemingly-helpless-twinks kind of trouble. The one on the right was far, far too close, and upon further involuntary investigation, Matthew wrinkled his nose; they smelled of leather, sweat and cigarettes. He caught a whiff of grease and strong cologne, and it just wasn't doing anything for him.

It was only when a beefy hand rested a little too casually on his thigh that the socially awkward Canadian became distressed; sure, when handed a hockey stick and a pair of ice skates, Matthew was practically unrivaled in violence, but in a loud club full of thrashing bodies and a group of at least half a dozen leather-clad doms with biceps that his torso could probably fit inside, if something went wrong, no one would notice a scream or a struggle, and if they did, who would oppose such a gang?

Through his haze of confusion, Arthur could feel a very strong distressed imbalance on the thin plane between that of the humans and that of the ethereal. His body seemed to snap to attention before his mind, and before Francis' distress signals could become clear, Arthur very nearly appeared before his human as Alfred was drying his hands. Just before he did, though, a steady stream of men walked in to the bathroom, nowhere near drunk enough to pass off a man in a toga's sudden appearance as a hallucination. Alfred was taking his sweet time, and that just wouldn't do. So without a second thought, Arthur disappeared from the bathroom and felt a tremor from Francis stronger than he ever had before, his eyes widening.

There, right where Alfred had left Matthew standing, was a gathering of rather large gentlemen in sweaty black vests and hideously tight pants, and they were all rather close to the young blond.

Or were. Right in the middle of the lot of them stood a very stern, very humanly-solid Francis Bonnefoy, his body situated in front of Matthew's. Francis had Appeared.

Instead of the toga, Francis was now wearing a pure white shirt, and very light jeans. He faced the burly men straight on, making sure Matthew was behind his back. "Why don't you gentlemen move on?" he said, trying to hide his fear as much as possible. He wasn't afraid of the men; they were just some human bullies. He was afraid because this was the first time he had Appeared to anyone since Napoleon, and _that_ hadn't ended well.

The tallest of the men scoffed at him. "And what do you think you're gonna do about it? What are you, his father?"

"Do I look old enough to be his father? Dear Lord in heaven, I don't look old enough to be your father, do I?" He asked, turning his head to Matthew. This was the first and only time Matthew would be seeing him, he didn't want to look old! Even if he was a few hundred... well a few thousand years old, but he was sure he only looked about 23!

Matthew didn't know what to say. Rather, he didn't really know what to think. A fair-skinned, tall, very beautiful man had suddenly appeared, pushed through the rugged mass of testosterone to stand before him, sufficiently causing the hand previously inching up his thigh to recoil. It was like some sort of Godsend, and while Matthew knew it was too soon to feel relieved, it was rather comforting to have someone on his side. "U-um.." he mumbled, his back flush against the bar, "n-no... not at all, sir..."

"Why would you ask such an asinine question at a time like this?" came Arthur's cranky voice, piercing through the heavy bass tones as he seemingly melted through the lads wrapped tight in leather, coming to stand beside Francis, looking him over. "Ah, and here I assumed you wouldn't have thought this through enough to be properly dressed. Good show."

One of the burly men scrunched up his brow in confusion. What the hell was with these guys? "Look, get the fuck out of here if you wanna keep your teeth."

Francis squared his jaw and stood up straighter. This was getting serious. "It is people like you who take advantage of sweet young men that are definitely going to Hell." He pushed Matthew back a bit more, in anticipation for what was about to happen. The man who had been touching his human made a fist, and went to punch him in the head, but the French angel was quick to dodge. It was one good thing about not being human. He felt Arthur beside him moving as well.

Mercurial anger and excitement coursed through Arthur as he dodged, holding up his palms. "We don't want to fight, gentlemen. We only ask that you please step away from the poor boy. Won't you, please?"

He caught a heavy flying fist in his hand and frowned. "Well, I suppose that's a no."

Matthew would have done anything to find a thought then, wondering frantically what he should be doing in this situation. And where on earth was Alfred? They were supposed to have been staying close from the very beginning so that this sort of thing wouldn't happen!

As soon as he got out of the bathroom, Alfred could tell something was wrong. No one was dancing anymore, even though the music was still playing, and everyone seemed to be looking near the middle of the floor. He made his way there and saw why. But what confused him most was that Arthur was visible, and not in a toga. He saw that there was a brawl quickly brewing. "Hey! Why don't you asswipes pick on someone your own size?" he yelled, then gestured for his brother to meet him outside.

"Go on, lad," Arthur said to Matthew over his shoulder. He didn't spare a glance at Alfred except to nod the younger sibling in his direction. "We'll take care of these gentlemen. You chaps will let him through, won't you?" He eyed Alfred pointedly. "That one can practically bench-press a bus, and he seems pretty upset."

Francis held out a hand, moving them out of the way. The look on their faces clearly said that they had no idea why they were moving. The angel took Matthew by the hand, leading him out. "Don't worry, those two can deal with them, _cher_."

As soon as his brother was out of harm's way, Alfred threw his first punch, hitting the biggest asshole in the face. That was when the fight broke out. He noticed that Arthur was basically on the defensive, and he figured that he wasn't allowed to hit anyone. "Fucking die, bitch!" Why was this small guy so fast? And he wasn't even throwing any of his own punches!

Arthur could feel it in the air, the tension of befuddled rage tight and suffocating, and as soon as Matthew and Francis were completely out of sight, he pulled Alfred toward him by the back of his shirt, never forgetting for a single adrenaline moment where he had just been and what he had just done. "Don't fight," the angel murmured at Alfred's neck near to his ear. "Don't worry." _I will protect you._

Someone must have alerted security, as a few tall, muscular men in tight blue shirts and grim faces approached rapidly through the crowds toward the scene. Arthur seemed to have been the only one to have noticed, though, and took a look at the man with the bleeding nose and the blood on Alfred's fist. His mind racing, devising a plot, he quickly took Alfred's arms and drew them snugly around himself, holding them close to his chest. "Help! Please, security!" Arthur called, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. A rather intimidating-looking gentleman appeared, the first of the bouncers, with short blond spikes and severe blue eyes behind his glasses and stood at least a head taller than all present. He loomed over, placing a hand over one of the leather-clad shoulders. "Trouble?" the bouncer asked simply.

The angel knew that those frightening eyes would take in the scene as a simple attack; a gang had gotten themselves drunk and had begun to pick on a rumpled, vulnerable-looking Arthur, and Alfred had come to save the day; the bloody nose on the punk was only a means of self-defense.

Or maybe the scary bouncer was just plotting a way to kill them all. His eyes said as much, anyway.

Alfred held Arthur close to himself, catching on. "Those three were attacking my boyfriend!" He watched as the large bouncer, joined by another, proceeded to grab the men and manhandle them out of the place. As soon as the fight was over, people slowly began to dance again.

"What are you doing? I thought you couldn't let people see you!" He started moving both of them towards the door to meet up again with Mattie.

The angel shushed him, informing him that an explanation would be delivered at a later time; the exit sign was nigh.

Back out into the cool night air, Matthew saw his brother and the other man dressed in white popping out of the club. The gentleman that had led him out -Francis, wasn't it?- had noticed them, too. "Alfred," Matthew called, waving his brother over to the side of the brick building, away from the line of club-goers waiting to enter.

The older brother ran to Matthew, giving him a hug and looking at the blond over his shoulder. This had to be his guardian angel, since he was dressed similar to Arthur. "Sorry about that, I shouldn't have left."

Francis cleared his throat. "Speaking of leaving, we really should get going. It was nice finally meeting you Matthieu." Now that he was with his brother, he would be safe. He grabbed Arthur by the shirt and started walking away to someplace where they could safely disappear. Matthew struggled slightly in his brother's arms, calling out a weak string of thanks.

Arthur squawked, but let himself be pulled along, eventually wrenching free of Francis' grasp. "I can walk by myself, you know!" he said tersely. Once they were out of sight, Francis popped back to his regular form and gave a sigh of relief as Arthur did as well. "What do you think he thought of me? I hope he didn't think I was strange, just some guy randomly butting in. But you know what he is like! He couldn't hurt a fly unless he is watching or playing hockey! I had to do something! I tried getting their attention on someone else but they were persistent!" He would have kept talking but he had to catch his breath. His heart was still racing! Matthieu had seen him in the flesh!

"Calm down! For Heaven's sake..." Arthur huffed, raking a hand through his hair. "You did the right thing. It's just been too long since your last Appearance is all." He peeked around the corner, watching Alfred fuss over Matthew. He smiled a little, before remembering the incident in the bathroom.

He swallowed, trying to convince himself. "_Oui_, it is just that I have always wondered what Matthew would think of me! You are lucky, you already know that Alfred loves you."

Arthur's jaw tightened at that. "I wouldn't call it 'lucky'," he mumbled, slowly, magnetically drifting back to Alfred. 


	5. Five

The following day found a pouting Alfred clinging to his brother at the front door, a stuffed suitcase at their feet. Matthew laughed, patting him on the back. "Cheer up, Al. I'll be back in the states in a few weeks, and then maybe I'll bring Gil over. How does that sound?"

"Fine. But only because I have to check if he's good enough for you." Because only the best was good enough for his brother. He picked up his suit case and handed it to him.

Matthew smiled and took it from him, opening the front door. "Bye, Al," he said, waving at his brother all the way to the taxi.

Arthur watched the sweet boy and his guardian angel disappear around the block, popping back inside when Alfred shut the door with a sigh.

"Well, now you can be visible." Alfred said to the room. Ever since the first night Matthew was there, Arthur hadn't really hesitated to show himself again.

Arthur appeared on the circular loop at the very bottom of the banister, sitting quietly in his smaller form. He said nothing, only glanced toward the wall, his miniature wings rustling behind him.

Going beside him, Alfred smiled. "Well, now it's just you and me. Sorry you didn't get to spend more time with your angel friend." When they had gotten home last night it had been pretty late, so they hadn't gotten much chance to talk about what had happened at the club.

"Mmm..." came Arthur's noncommittal response. His eyes were everywhere but on Alfred. "How is your hand?"

Looking at his knuckles, he shrugged. "They don't hurt. It's not like I've never punched a guy before." As Arthur should know. "So you never told me that you guys were allowed to like show up randomly and save the day. I thought you always had to be invisible or something."

Arthur shrugged his bare shoulders. "As a general rule, yes. But drastic times call for drastic measures. There are always exceptions to the rule. There are some angels who are constantly in Appearance. They work normal human jobs and seem completely ordinary. But they do the same things I do, mostly. It just depends."

Nodding, he picked up the small angel and placed him on top of his head. Alfred loved it when he was up there. "So that Francis guy, I swear Mattie hasn't stopped talking about him. He thinks he's the biggest hero ever, and I mean I'm the one who punched that guy in the face! I'm the real hero, but he wouldn't say that." He went to go make some coffee, needing his morning pick-me-up.

"Oh, I know," Arthur said, finding balance atop Alfred's head, his eyes aimed toward the ceiling in exasperation. "I haven't stopped hearing about it since last night from the 'hero' himself. I swear, the ego on that man is a sin."

"But it's not a sin, 'cause you guys can't sin, right?" Another reason why they could never be together in the way Alfred wanted. But at least Arthur didn't know about that, so it wasn't too bad. Wait, but what if angels could read minds? Maybe Arthur knew what he was thinking right now! "Can you read minds?"

"Hmm?" Arthur cocked his head to the side. "What a silly question. Of course I can." If he felt Alfred start at that, he made no indication. "But I don't. Not all the time, anyway. I can infiltrate your dreams as well. That's one of our specialties."

Well, as long as he didn't use it. "Stay out of my head then. I wouldn't want you to see the plans for the awesome robot that I wanna build!" Which was pretty much total crap, but hopefully it would make Arthur think he was just being an idiot again. Not that he really wanted to be thought of as an idiot, but it was better than being thought of as a pervert.

The angel rolled his eyes. "Not a problem. I don't have to. There is a direct connection between your brain and your mouth; every thought that enters your mind comes out a split second later. Sometimes before." He tugged on a bit of Alfred's hair. "You act as though I haven't known you your entire life."

Reaching up, Alfred tried to get his hair out of Arthur's hands. "Well, to me, I just met you like a couple months ago. It's a big thing to wrap your mind around, you know?" No matter how much Arthur would talk about when he was a baby, it still didn't really catch on much.

"Oh, stop making a mountain of a molehill. It's only been twenty-three years." Arthur stepped off of Alfred's head and drifted in a beeline toward the cupboard. It opened at his arrival and he sat himself on the rim of a cup, crossing his legs. "I would like some tea, please."

Having gotten some a while ago just for Arthur, Alfred set about making a pot of boiling water. "Twenty-three years may not be much to you, but that's my whole life. I'll only live till I'm ninety-ish, if I'm lucky, and you'll just go on to someone else who needs protecting. So yeah, twenty-three years means a lot to me."

He didn't need to know how much it had meant to Arthur. With a flush in his cheeks, the angel glanced to the side. He didn't know he had lost balance until it was too late and, with a startled yelp, he fell back into the teacup, sprawled out with his legs akimbo over the rim.

Hearing the gasp, Alfred looked over and laughed. "You sure are clumsy for an angel." He picked him up by one of his legs and took Arthur out of the cup, placing him on the table. "I always tell you to not sit on the cups, but you never listen."

Readjusting his halo, Arthur scowled, humiliation glowing in his cheeks. "S-shut up! If you were in the same situation, you would've cracked the cup with your gargantuan mass!"

"Hey! Are you calling me fat?" Alfred lifted up his shirt, showing off his taut stomach. While he didn't have a full six-pack, he was still pretty muscular, and he definitely got looks at the beach. "I'm not fat!"

"Ugh, put that away," Arthur said, shielding his eyes from the lean, muscly body dramatically. "I don't want to be exposed to all that any more than I have to be."

Still holding up his shirt, Alfred went closer to the table. "Come on, you know you love it! Wanna touch it? I bet you do~ You wanna feel how hard it is. Come on, touch it, I don't mind." He actually loved people touching his stomach, so he could smirk victoriously at them.

Arthur scrambled back, knocking into a few spoons and the pepper-shaker in his haste. "Ghastly! Atrocious! My poor eyes!" the miniature being crowed teasingly, snickering at Alfred's pout.

"You're just jealous." Alfred finally let his shirt fall back down when the pot of water started whistling. He checked, and his coffee was almost done as well. He quickly poured the water into a cup and dunked a tea bag in it. "Here, you can do the rest." Then he poured himself his coffee and sat down.

With a smirk, Arthur popped back to his normal size and chuckled, patting Alfred on the head and allowing gravity to pull him into the chair to Alfred's left. "Yes, yes," he said, taking the cup in his hands and dipping the teabag in and out. "I'm insanely jealous."

"Yeah, that's right." Even though Alfred knew Arthur was only agreeing because he finally got his tea, he was still happy at the small victory. And now that he had some caffeine in his system, he began to wake up. "I have to go to work in an hour..."

Arthur mouthed the rim of the porcelain cup, his eyelids fluttering closed in calm ecstasy. "Mmm, yes, I know," he said, taking a sip. "Have you finished all of your paperwork, then?"

Looking at his own cup of brown liquid, Alfred was suddenly reminded of all the work he had left on Friday. "Most of it. Mostly." Which pretty much meant he had done a bit of the paperwork. It didn't matter much though, his boss was on holidays for another week.

And so Arthur went through the motions, bickering with Alfred when he was visible, watching him silently when he was not, and all the while an irksome thought lingered in his head. A memory, one in trillions, one that sent shivers racing up and down his spine in little electric jolts.

His name on Alfred's lips as he reached the height of a human's intimate pleasure.

The angel was confused. It wasn't as though he didn't understand the implications- he was millennia old, after all, and really, nothing a human mind was capable of would surprise him. No, that wasn't the cause of his confusion. What had the angel befuddled was, more specifically, why Arthur? He had known that his human had developed some form of inappropriate feelings for him over the past few months, but to such an extent... it made no rational sense to Arthur. Arthur, with eyebrows practically the size of an island. Arthur, with the temper and the sharp tongue. Arthur, with the wings and the halo and the subtle, supple should-have-been androgynous body. Arthur, who could not even save Alfred from his nightmares.

He watched the young man go about his daily life in a cheerful complacency and could not help but think on it, wondering. Just wondering.

Alfred unknowingly was thinking on the same lines. He was thinking about what had happened with Ivan, how, when he was with another man, he had still ended up thinking about Arthur. Every time he had gotten away to jerk off, he always thought about him. It wasn't right, Arthur was an angel. He was a pure being from God, so he really should never be thought of in such a way. It was dirty.

He was not an idiot. He knew that he couldn't really stop himself of thinking about Arthur like that when at the height of pleasure. He also knew that if he was ever given the chance, he would take the angel any way he could. But he didn't want to think that way!

One thing he could control, however, was to stop thinking about Arthur completely like that. To do that, he would have to stop the action that had him thinking about Arthur like that. He would just have to stop jerking off.

It shouldn't be too difficult. He had spent twelve years of his life without spanking the monkey, he should be able to stop till his feelings for Arthur faded. Surely Alfred wasn't so controlled by his libido that he needed to do that so much. He could deal with it, he was no longer a horny teenager.

Right?

* * *

It was when Alfred started to become tense and vaguely irritable that Arthur's red flag started to go up. That only took about a week and a half. By the time three weeks had passed, Arthur noticed just how frequently Alfred had to change his underwear and pants just after waking.

Two weeks after that, when washing his sheets became an almost every-other-day occurrence, Arthur knew something was up. Alfred was suppressing himself. In a person who was chaste, it would not be such a problem, he knew, but Alfred had been swept away by the wicked ways of the world so early on and so frequently in his young life, so that sex was like a drug to his body. Without a fix, it yearned for the drug, cried out for it, begging for more, but for some reason, his human just wasn't releasing that stress on his own. He hadn't had a partner, either. (Not that Arthur minded that part.) At first, the angel was proud; Alfred was finally making healthy choices for himself. He was doing the right thing.

But when it became obvious that Alfred's body had not caught up with his mind at the change of heart, Arthur became worried. Alfred was exhausted, often fatigued. There were dark circles under his bloodshot blue eyes, and his attitude had taken a turn for the not-so-great.

And Arthur didn't know how to fix it.

* * *

"You fucking liar! The football game is at one o'clock, not two!" Alfred threw a pillow at the television, angered by the announcer. "If he's too stupid to know what he's talking about then he should be fucking fired!" Maybe he should have a drink. Yeah, that might calm him down. Sure, it was noon, but who gave a crap anymore? "Arthur, where's the beer? I just bought some last week!" He couldn't have drunk it all this fast, could he? Then he caught sight of a commercial, a hot girl selling cars. Shit, now he was hard, from a fucking commercial! "And change the channel. This one is stupid."

The angel didn't have the heart to bicker anymore. It had lost the edge of enjoyment when Alfred had become genuine in his snark, to the point where his words were razor-sharp and cut through Arthur in tone and meaning. But he still had his pride, and with a scowl, he disappeared, not bothering to stick around in the same room.

He spent more time invisible than visible those days. With Alfred getting worse and worse as the days progressed, Arthur felt more and more uncomfortable being near him. He wasn't the same. He was frustrated, repressed, and Arthur was sick of it. If he hadn't been willing to resort to drastic measures before, he had finally reached that point.

And so Arthur formulated a plot to cure Alfred's attitude for good.

* * *

Alfred hissed as the cold water hit his body. Another cold shower, like any he had taken for a few weeks. He didn't want to risk a warm shower, since his body knew that this was one of the times that Arthur wasn't here, and it would be so easy to just put some shampoo in his hand and move it to his crotch...

"Fuck fuck fuck." He took the shower head down, directing the freezing stream directly onto his problem. He hoped this would make it so he wouldn't have to change his sheets tonight, but it never seemed to help much. Nothing was working anymore. At first he had been able to control it relatively well, but now he found himself at work, not being able to stand up, or at home, having to quickly grab a pillow or blanket to cover himself with. It just wasn't fair! He could have been a girl, they didn't seem to have this problem!

Not being able to stand much more of the cold water, Alfred got out and dried himself. Of course, now that he wasn't in the cold shower, his member was already half hard. That was pretty much constant for him now, it just didn't seem to want to go down!

Arthur wouldn't have been a proper Guardian if he hadn't noticed. Anymore, it was unmistakable, even commonplace. He set his jaw firmly and waited for Alfred to be under the covers, waited for the light to go out, before he drifted over to Alfred's bed.

"Alfred," he said softly, his form a silhouette against the window.

"What?" Alfred snapped without realizing. He knew he hadn't said goodnight, hadn't said it for about a week now, but he knew that if he did it was pretty much a death sentence for his boxers. If he heard Arthur telling him goodnight right before bed, his dreams would have their way with him.

In the dark, Arthur leaned over, his breath tight behind his lips. Silent except for the creak of the box spring mattress, Arthur slowly crawled into the bed, on top of the covers. "Alfred," he repeated, just as gently, and squinted through the dark. "Just don't move."

Groaning a bit in frustration, Alfred rolled over on his side, away from him. "Whatever, I'm going to sleep." This was not good, not at all. Already he was fully hard, thinking of Arthur as he was, in his bed. Why couldn't he just be invisible like usual?

Frowning, Arthur grabbed Alfred by the shoulder, yanking him onto his back. "Didn't you hear me?" he groused, pinning Alfred down. "I said not to move, did I not? What is so difficult to understand about that?" He straddled Alfred's waist and leaned down, eye to eye with his human. "Don't argue, and don't get snippy with me. Your behavior as of late is shameful and rude and I can't stand it any longer. Open your mouth, boy."

Eyes growing wide, all Alfred was thinking of was Arthur's ass so near his groin. He didn't even really hear what he had said, he was just focusing on not thrusting, or grinding, or anything of the sort because that would be so fucking wrong and oh God Arthur was so _close_... He opened his mouth to say something along the lines of 'get the fuck off me' but never got the chance.

The angel sealed his mouth against Alfred's, cutting off any foul, scathing words with the gentle pressure there. He pulled back, only a few centimeters away, taking a breath before kissing him again, chaste and soft, a mere touch. He focused on the soft, warm skin, his own lips steady as he took advantage of Alfred's gaping mouth, gently kissing his lower lip.

It was nice. Too nice. And for all the things it could lead to, such a simple thing seemed so innocent.

As soon as he had felt lips on his own, Alfred swore he stopped breathing all together. He was sure this wasn't a dream because it felt too real, but at the same time it wasn't real at all because there was no way Arthur just kissed him. But his body took over, and within a few seconds he had them flipped over, so that the angel, the perfect pure angel, was trapped under him. Attacking his mouth, Alfred knew he was breathing too hard. He hoped that this _was_ just a dream, because that wouldn't have any consequences later on, but deep down, he still knew that this was real. Pulling back, he closed his eyes, trying to regain control of his body. "Why did you do that?" He growled out, voice much deeper than normal.

His wings lay under him, crushed and flapping of their own will. Arthur's heart was beating in overtime at a pace he knew couldn't be healthy. His breath had gone from him, and so had his words. Only one floated to the surface, and he grabbed at it like a lifeline. "A-Alfred..."

With that, Alfred knew that he couldn't _not_ do anything. He didn't want to touch Arthur, despite his desperate need, because he was an untouchable, an angel… But to fuck with his promise to himself, he needed to come. So he sat back, the angel still under him, and reached into his own boxers. "This is -_fuck_- your fault." He looked at those green eyes and grabbed his own cock, quickly stroking along the length. He was definitely not going to last more than a minute, he knew, but that was probably for the best.

Arthur sighed with relief, not sparing a glance toward the motion, but rather, he looked up into Alfred's eyes, shuddering at their intensity. "I know," he said quietly, wincing when Alfred's seed splashed upon his thigh.

He closed his eyes tightly, wishing he could just disappear like Arthur. There was no denying that he loved him in a way he shouldn't now, not after that. Alfred got off the bed and practically ran into the bathroom, wanting to wash all the semen and guilt away until they didn't exist. It was disgusting how viscous it was, because it had been so long, and he wiped at his legs furiously. He already knew he would be going to Hell, but now he was sure that he would spend eternity burning.

In the bedroom, Arthur waited. He rubbed the semen from his thigh and sat atop the thick white covers and just breathed, listening for the sound of Alfred's footsteps returning. All he could hear, though, was the sound of the water in the bathroom running and running and running.

With his will he called to Alfred, pulling him, his heart whispering to Alfred's feet to move him, to bring him back.

Without even knowing why, the American found himself walking back to the room. He had been thinking… hoping that Arthur would have disappeared, but no, he was still there on the bed. He cleared his throat, looking out the window.

"…Why did you let me do that?" He knew very well that it would have been an easy thing for the angel to have shrunk and gotten away, or probably just transport himself to somewhere else.

Arthur didn't like him standing there in the doorway, so far away, creating a rift between them. If he had been braver, he might have reached out. Instead, he gathered up the blankets without much of a thought, and held them to his chest, like a barrier for his heart.

"I had to," he answered quietly. "You weren't the same. It was the only way."

Now that Alfred's mind was clear of his lust, he could think clearly. He thought about how he had been acting, and how that must have been like for Arthur. "But... you didn't have to... have to let me... you could have just left." It was pretty obvious from the first kiss that he wouldn't be able to resist, so why did he stick around after that?

The angel looked down. Even in the dark, Alfred's eyes were too bright. "If I had, you would think that you went too far, and you'd never do it again. You would think that you had hurt me somehow. Because you're kind, Alfred. Kind and stupid. And when you overthink things, kind and stupid are a dreadful combination." His lips pressed together into a thin line as he sealed them shut, wanting Alfred to come closer. The distance was chipping away at him, making him self-conscious. It hurt.

"Didn't I go too far?" Alfred said under his breath. It wasn't really a whisper, he just no longer had the energy to project. He stumbled forward a few steps, not too close but not too far away. "Didn't I go too far a long time ago?" Since he had thought of Arthur that way, even back before he had crossed the line.

A half-sob, half-laugh bubbled up from Arthur's throat. He didn't know how to feel at that point. "Yes. You did," he answered honestly, hiding like a coward behind the down comforter. "And I didn't care. Not like I should have, anyway. It's all wrong, because I still don't care. I don't mind at all that you've crossed the line, and if you crossed it a thousand times I would think nothing of it. You're my boy, Alfred."

Still standing there, Alfred was much too tired to wrap his mind around what he had just heard. "What do you mean?"

"I love you," he said simply, surprised at how easily it could be said. "I always have." Closing his eyes, Arthur took on the form of his Appearance, the very same as he ever was, sans the wings, the halo, and the toga. Just Arthur, clothed in something loose and white that he didn't really have the focus to really visualize at the moment.

Looking at him, Alfred hesitantly steps forward. "I hope you don't mean as a son or something. Because I don't think I could take that right now." He allowed himself one small hope that Arthur meant what it sounded like he meant, even if that would be so wrong. Why did it feel so right?

"Not at all." Arthur's eyes moved up and up and he swallowed. His heartbeat must have been audible to Alfred for its intensity and pace. "Alfred," he said, his voice nearly a whisper. "I'm cold."

Then his old smirk was back, and it felt so good. "Can you even get cold?" But he moved forward, closer to the bed. Arthur looked like he was actually human like that, and he couldn't help but think that he liked him better without the wings and halo. They had always been a constant reminder of what he couldn't have.

"Apparently so," Arthur bit back, his shoulders and fists and heart relaxing at the comfortable familiarity. "You're a glutton for air conditioning and I'm paying the price. Come here and take responsibility for it."

Doing just that, Alfred slipped under the blankets and held them up for Arthur to get in. It still felt unreal, but he knew that it was as it was, and he'd be damned if he'd try to argue with Arthur at this point. "If you're cold, get under here then."

Though Arthur felt a little shy about it, he complied without complaint, hunkering down under the covers near to Alfred. He very much preferred the Alfred that quarreled and quipped and smiled at him to the hateful, frustrated Alfred of the past few weeks. He knew that the human must have been exhausted and burrowed close, relishing in the warmth of his body. "You should sleep."

"Promise that when I wake up, this will have still happened?" he said with a small laugh. Alfred hesitantly put his arm around Arthur's waist, pulling him closer when there wasn't a protest. After so long restraining himself, it was strange to be able to do such a thing.

With Alfred's t-shirt fisted in his grasp, Arthur smiled, thankful for the dark. "I promise. I won't even move." He thought for a moment. "Well. Unless it's to save your life."


	6. Six

In the morning when he woke up, Alfred didn't open his eyes. He tightened his grip and found that, yes, Arthur was still in his arms. "Mornin'," he grunted out. A cup of coffee'd probably give him his peppy boost.

Arthur opened his eyes, his state of quiet contemplation jarred by Alfred's waking. "Good morning," he answered crisply, his face comfortably settled between Alfred's chest and the curve of his muscled bicep. "I trust you slept well."

Humming his affirmation, Alfred opened his eyes and looked at Arthur. "If you stayed here all night, you know very well how I slept." Because of last night, he felt almost comfortable when he pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Working very diligently not to allow himself to fall prey to a stunned silence, Arthur cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I was torn. I didn't know whether your snores indicated you were getting a restful sleep, or whether you were suffocating."

"I don't snore!" Alfred exclaimed, letting him go and getting out of the bed. He gave a big stretch, amazed at just how good of a sleep he had. And no wet dream in sight! "I'm gonna make coffee, want some tea?" Even though he knew that Arthur wouldn't say no to tea.

Arthur followed him to the kitchen, half walking, half floating an inch above the ground, touching down from time to time. "Of course I do," he answered. "Ah. Wait." The angel grabbed Alfred by the back of the shirt until he stopped moving and reached up, tracing his fingers down Alfred's neck where it connected to his shoulder. "There's a crick there that's going to bother you all day," he explained, circling it gently. "It'll interfere with your work if I don't... there. All gone."

Rolling his shoulders, Alfred smiled. "Thanks." It did feel much better now. He continued to the kitchen and set about making the coffee and tea. Then he sat down at the table, needing to talk things out. "So... how long have you known?"

Stirring some sugar into his tea, he was only half-listening. "Known what?" Arthur hummed, clinking the spoon gently at the rim of the cup.

"You know very well what." Alfred slightly glared at him over his cup. Then he took a sip and felt better. "What... happened last night."

Arthur sighed and frowned slightly. "Yes, Alfred, but to what exactly are you referring? I've known you were sexually frustrated since you were a twelve-year-old boy, that the last time you had a wank was over a month ago, not counting last night, and that your last partner was that Russian from a few years ago. Have I answered your question yet?"

What... Arthur had known about Ivan? Obviously he had known him from four years ago, but he knew about his at the club? Hopefully he had only seen them heading to the bathroom... "I mean how long have you known that I like you?" It was obvious he did know, otherwise he wouldn't have convinced him to jerk off.

The angel shrugged nonchalantly, though the effect was somewhat rendered obsolete by the light tinge in his cheeks. He lifted the cup to his lips to hide that, though. "Well, you've only known I exist for more or less past half a year, so naturally, I..." He faltered. "Well, I wasn't really sure until that night at the club." He coughed, his cheeks warming. "You were a little too vocal about it at a very inappropriate time."

A large blush formed on his cheeks and Alfred suddenly found something really interesting to stare at in his coffee. "You... you were there? In the bathroom?" Could this possibly get any more embarrassing? Arthur actually heard him moan his name while being sucked off by another guy!

"Yes," he answered, "I was there. It's nothing I haven't seen before, I'm afraid." He nodded to himself, sipping at his tea. "But it was then that I knew for sure. I'd had my speculations before, but that more or less eliminated any doubts." Arthur lowered his teacup to a saucer with a quiet _clink_. "I don't..." He cleared his throat, glancing at the _only too interesting_wallpaper. "I don't mind, you know."

Besides the overwhelming embarrassment he felt, Alfred looked up. "Really? Are you sure?" He was a little worried that Arthur was only doing this because he cared about him as his human, but last night he had said he loved him. Arthur gave him a sharp glance. "I wouldn't lie to you, Alfred. Those are my feelings." For Heaven's sake, if Alfred couldn't believe the word of an angel, what _could _he believe?

"Alright. Sorry." Alfred smiled and leaned over the table, kissing Arthur on the mouth, and then grimacing slightly because he tasted like tea. "Well, since I don't have to go to work today, so what do you want to do?" Yesterday his boss had gotten fed up with his rotten mood and told him to take the rest of the week off.

The angel's eyelids lowered, trance-like and happily dazed. "Oh. Um." He lifted his eyes, hoping his smile wasn't so large as to be embarrassing. "I-I don't suppose you would want to go somewhere?"

"Like where? Here is really the only place you can be visible." Alfred finished his coffee and then put it down. "Wait, what if you look like a human, and we could like go to a movie or something!"

Arthur thought hard about it, his lips pressed together in a thin line, and after a moment, he nodded. "I don't think there's anything wrong with that, if we're throwing away any and all inhibitions anyway." A movie sounded lovely, he decided to himself, his heart fluttering. It sounded like a date.

Alfred quickly looked up what movies were playing, and they decided on an action comedy. "Since it will be dark, it isn't too bad that people will see you. How would they know anyway?" He started to pick out what he would wear. This would be so fun!

The angel followed Alfred, scratching the back of his neck. "I don't know why you make such a fuss about it," he said. "I'm sure I've told you before- there are those of us who go around all the time in Appearance. They blend in just as well as any other person." He looked down at himself, and glanced around, mimicking the dressy, snazzy image of the model on the cover of a magazine tossed haphazardly on Alfred's dresser. He made sure that everything- the green sweater-vest, the crisp white undershirt, the khaki slacks- fit perfectly on his body before he poked Alfred on the shoulder. "What do you think?"

Turning around, Alfred instantly recognized the outfit. "You look lovely, darling," he said, imitating a gay fashion designer with the hand flip and all. But it really did make Arthur look pretty good. Arthur rolled his eyes, taking his words for sarcasm. "At least I tried to make myself presentable," he countered, smoothing down the front of the pristine green article. "If this is a date, could you please wear something a little more cultured than a t-shirt and jeans?"

"But that depends how sexy the shirt and jeans are. Like I can totally pull of the punk look. Remember these jeans?" He pulled out a pair of faded and torn jeans, that were just tight enough to hug his ass. "And that with my shirt with all the staples and I look great!" Not to mention making his hair just the right amount of messy.

Interest piqued, Arthur hummed to himself in contemplation. "Go on, then. Put it on." He knew the difference between them would be staggering; Arthur clean-cut and boorish and Alfred, a free, jagged soul to be tested. He shook his head at the silly thoughts inside.

A big grin on his face, Alfred paused. He would usually go to the bathroom to change or tell Arthur to turn around. But, after last night... He slowly took off his shirt, even if he knew very well that Arthur had seen him naked before. But this time, he knew that the angel was there.

Marveling at how quiet Alfred had made himself, Arthur's lips parted. His eyes roamed the muscled curvature of his human's body. He felt an interesting tension wafting off of Alfred, something he didn't recognize in the boy. It took him a long moment to realize that it was self-consciousness.

Arthur tried very hard not to blush.

He quickly pulled on the plane white shirt, because it was just too embarrassing. Alfred was glad that for his pants, he didn't have to take his boxers off. The jacket completed the look, with a quick hand through his hair. "Well, how do I look?" When he was a teenager and rocked this look for the total of a week, he had almost gotten an ear piercing. It was a good thing he didn't, because the next week he had found a great pair of baggy jeans and decided to change his style again.

"Smashing," Arthur answered without thinking, and to escape his embarrassment he turned toward the door. "L-let's go, shall we?"

Alfred grinned at the compliment. "Yeah, sounds good. You like this look, do you?" He had to admit, it did look great on him. He never would wear it for his usual style, but every once in a while it was good to bring it out.

"I never said that," he mumbled, taking the stairs two at a time (or maybe that was just him floating half the time). It was a fair day outside, pleasant enough weather, and so Arthur turned to Alfred. "Would you like to walk?"

He shrugged, not minding. "Sure, it isn't too far. And parking is always horrible." Then he reached out, grabbing Arthur's hand with a smile. "This is nice, just going out on a date. Almost like a regular couple."

Arthur felt something in his heart jolt and, shyly, he slipped his fingers in between Alfred's. He looked away from the blond at his side, hoping his ears didn't appear as on fire as they felt. "You... you think?"

"Yeah." Alfred smiled and squeezed his hand. "But we should totally sit in the back so people don't get mad at us for kissing," he said with a laugh. Making out in the theater was always the best, because it was nice and dark and everything.

"K-kissing?" Arthur repeated, turning to Alfred with wide eyes. Shortly thereafter, he felt rather silly for not having realized before that such an occurrence was more or less right up Alfred's alley.

A little nervous, Alfred bit his lip uncertainly. "I was just joking, we don't have to kiss if you don't want to." Maybe last night had just been because Arthur had felt sorry for him? He might not want a physical relationship, and that would actually make more sense since he was an angel and everything...

"No!" Arthur said suddenly, a bit louder than he had intended; people were giving him odd looks from around the sidewalk. He lowered his head sheepishly and stepped a little closer to Alfred. "No," he repeated quietly, "I-I don't mind... I was just surprised..."

Feeling better, he nodded. "Alright. Good. Back row it is then." He really needed to stop doubting this relationship. It seemed to be hurting them both.

Arthur nodded, following Alfred's lead, scarcely adjusting his grip on the human's hand at all, neither tightening or loosening the grasp. He listened to Alfred's inane chatter all the way to the theater, rolling his eyes when the lad bought a date deal inside the cinema with a very large drink, two straws, and enough overpriced candy to give an army diabetes.

"Come on, we have to get a seat before the previews start! I wanna see if there are any superhero movies coming up." He pulled them through the people and went to theater three. Back row, near to the isle.

Arthur sat in the seats he had, for over twenty years, floated above, only rarely seating himself on top of Alfred's head (when he brought his friends and not his dates). A little thrill ran through him at the thought that he was finally a part of the world he so often tried to protect Alfred from-that he would be the one on the end of Alfred's line of affection instead of watching over it. He watched the ads flash across the cinema screen, not daring to look at the American.

When the lights went dark, Alfred wrapped his arm around the angel's shoulders. He was happy to see that the arm rest between them could push up, so they didn't have it between them. "This is gonna be so good! I'm excited!" Though he wasn't really talking about the movie. It was a shame really, because he had wanted to see this movie, and he probably wouldn't be watching very much of it.

The angel, though, was enraptured. For all of his life since the beginning of cinema in the early 20th century, he had never truly paid attention to large screen, a trifle unsure of what to make of it. Human inventions could be so useful, but as time progressed, they just seemed more and more useless to the angel, completely unnecessary for survival, especially in America. And for the past twenty or so years, he had found himself far more interested in the golden boy transfixed on the enormous screen than the screen itself.

Now, though, he really took a good look. Nearly his entire range of vision was captured by the moving picture, and the noise that filled the room was booming. It smelled of fresh and stale buttered popcorn and a great multitude of people with perfumes and colognes and minty chewing gum. His sensory perception went into overdrive and he could only stare, his eyes locked on the movie.

Alfred tried to get his attention in subtle ways, rubbing his thumb into his arm, pulling him closer, tilting his head towards him. But it just wasn't working! So finally, with a sigh, he turned Arthur's face and started kissing him. This, after all, was what they were really here for!

The angel jumped a little in surprise, and slowly but surely he began to melt against Alfred, his eyelids fluttering against his cheeks. He held the breath that he didn't need to breathe, almost worried that, if he made any sudden movements, the moment would end and Alfred would be gone.

Slowly, Alfred worked Arthur's mouth open and slipped his tongue in. It registered, almost as an afterthought, that he was kissing an angel. Sure, currently he just looked like any other normal guy, but he was an angel who looked after him.

As though he had not seen centuries upon centuries of heinous crimes, sexual deviances, and the most grotesque sins humanly possible, Arthur's response was shy, all too nervous. He felt a little silly, but despite the thought, he could not make his body cooperate; his heart still thrummed at the speed of sound, his fingers still trembled as they held fast to Alfred's wrists, his face still flushed so near to the human's as it was.

Alfred pulled away as they heard an explosion on screen, and he pouted, having missed it. "Aw man, that looked like a good one! I think it was a bomb in that car!" Hollywood always knew how to blow shit up. He looked back to Arthur, a smirk on his face. "Well, now that we missed that, is there really any point in paying attention to the rest of the movie?" Of course, there would be more explosions, car chases, and gun fire, but he was much more interested in the blond looking at him with dark eyes.

Arthur wordlessly pulled him back, taking the initiative to delve back into those warm lips, trying so carefully not to drown. He could understand now why to humans, kissing was such a frequent pastime; it was positively delightful in every way.

Or perhaps it was just kissing with Alfred that made it so wonderful.

There were two more explosions until an usher waved a flashlight at them, hissing, "Hey you horny teenagers, if you want to do that then get a room." Alfred pulled away a little reluctantly, wondering if they actually _could_get a room.

All he thought to say, though, was, "We're not fucking teenagers." And that is how they got kicked out of the movie.

Arthur scowled at the building as though it were to blame. "They should've given you your money back," he said tersely, almost petulantly as a child would.

Finding the whole situation hilarious, Alfred leaned against a cold wall. "I think you know that won't happen. Like, ever." But either way, he wrapped his hand around Arthur's, feeling the warmth. "But I don't mind. It was still a good date."

Cheeks a little pink at the word, Arthur's scowl stayed intact. "You only say that because we k-kissed," he mumbled, lightly squeezing Alfred's hand.

"Yup, that's exactly why I said it. Want to go home now, or do something else?" Alfred had a feeling that if they went home, they might end up doing something... sinful. Or maybe they would have just kept on kissing, because that was nice too.

Arthur huffed and finally turned to look at Alfred, his rather large brow furrowed. "Well, I don't know. I've not exactly been on a 'date' before."

He countered quickly, not wanting Arthur to get out of it. "But you've been with me on dates, so you still know what they're like. So choose what you want to do." They were still outside the theater, and he was pretty sure he could see the man that had kicked them out glaring at them from behind the counter.

The angel frowned, thinking. He didn't need to eat to survive, as humans did, and he didn't see the point in paying to strap shoes with wheels on his feet and circle a room when he could (and did) travel just as quickly and fluidly without any effort on his part. He didn't need to go shopping, able to materialize clothing on his body at will. He struggled to think of something to do, feeling Alfred's eyes on him. "I... I don't know," he answered finally, feeling foolish.

It was then that Alfred remembered the paper he had read this morning, specifically the events. "I know where we should go."

Half an hour later, they were standing at the entrance of the City Hall. "Tea convention. Isn't America great? We have conventions for everything!"

Arthur's jaw took that opportunity to fall halfway to the ground, his eyes as wide as saucers. "Alfred," he said, swallowing thickly, feet rooted to the spot. "If I had not already loved you so dearly, at this particular moment in time I would have started."

"You're so cute when you're drooling," Alfred remarked, laughing a little. Of course, he was already set to be bored for the next hour, but he was glad they could go somewhere that made Arthur this happy.

Once Arthur's feet had begun to work again, he was pulling Alfred into the structure, flitting about from booth to booth like a man possessed. A few times, Alfred had to gently push down on his shoulder to remind him that _normal _people cannot just refuse to succumb to gravity and float inches above the ground.

The grand master of all tables appeared in the form of a megabooth with dozens of tea samples from all around the world available as teasers for their products. Arthur surprised the elderly gentlemen and ladies working the stand by drinking a sample of each and every one, completely oblivious to the cheering of his fellow tea enthusiasts.

"It is rare to see someone so young interested in tea. Good boy." An elderly woman was smiling at Arthur, leaning on her cane. Then she looked to Alfred, who was more interested in the ceiling. "Unfortunately your friend does not seem so cultured."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Madam, it does not only seem so; it _is_so." He took a sip of a white tea flavored lightly with honeysuckle and closed his eyes in bliss. It was perhaps the most divine tea he had ever tasted, and told the woman as much. And then, as though he had not just insulted him a moment before, Arthur turned to Alfred with imploring eyes. "Alfred, would you please get this for me?"

Attention back on the angel, Alfred looked at the tea. "What's wrong with the stuff I buy you now?" The _cheap _stuff he bought now. The tea he was holding looked like it cost a fortune! The old lady started telling him about how it was worth it but he just rolled his eyes. "Sorry, wasn't talking to you, I was talking to my _boyfriend_." She gasped and looked at them, obviously disliking the larger half of the couple, and she hobbled away.

Arthur frowned. "Don't be rude," he chastised, holding out the cup. "Just try it. It's absolutely heavenly, and I would know."

"You of all people should know that I don't like tea. I came here for you, not so you can stuff that crap down my throat." He smiled, warding off Arthur's attempts to get him to drink it. "If you don't stop I'm gonna kiss you in front of everyone here."

Arthur scowled, though the look was a little less off-putting by the gentle pink in his cheeks, and he sighed, finishing the sublime liquid, giving the tin can of its origin a longing gaze and a sigh before pulling Alfred away. "Let's not cause a scene."

Sighing, Alfred pulled him to a stop. "Fine, if you want it so bad I could get you some. How much for a can?"

Arthur's eyes widened and he grabbed Alfred's arm. "A-Alfred, you don't need to do this," he said quickly, his ears turning red.

"You said you wanted some. Don't be difficult, you're too cute for that." He handed the man some money, and took the can with a quick thanks. "There, isn't that better?" Alfred gave the can over to Arthur and rubbed his hair.

His lips pressed into a thin line. Arthur clutched the tin to his chest and silently followed Alfred away from the booth. Slowly, he reached out, sliding his palm against Alfred's and squeezing his hand. Squeezing back, Alfred led him to a corner of the room where there was a traditional Japanese tea ceremony being played out. "Remember Kiku from my high school? He said that his parents taught him how to do this." Arthur leaned against Alfred's shoulder and watched, his heart swelling with an impossible happiness. Without looking away, he said in a voice so quiet that only Alfred could hear, "It's dreadfully boring, though, isn't it?" Alfred had put up with what he must have found to be the most tiresome convention in the world, just for him; his efforts weren't going to go unnoticed. "Why don't we go home?"

"That sounds good. But you had fun, right?" Alfred was glad that they weren't in there for very long, maybe half an hour at most, but he was also glad that he brought Arthur here. They started heading for the door.

The angel looked down at the tin of tea - the first gift he had ever received in his countless millennia of life - and smiled. "I most certainly did."

* * *

"I really hate work some days," Alfred huffed as he took off his jacket and went to sit down. "I mean really, Brad comes just when he knows I'm about to leave, and gives me like another hour's work of shit to do! Not to mention I didn't get to talk to you all day." Usually he could sneak off at least once during the day, but today had just been horribly busy.

Arthur dropped down on the sofa next to Alfred and moved close to him, patting his hand in what might have been a comforting gesture. "At least you don't have to govern a country," he said in a consoling tone, remembering his kings and queens of old.

"It _feels_like I do." Alfred pulled the blond angel down on top of him, running his fingers along one of his wings. He had learned over the past two weeks that Arthur really liked that. "But now I'm with you, so it makes up for an overly demanding boss."

"You say the most embarrassing things," Arthur chided, but not without pleasure coloring his cheeks. He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Alfred's lips. "Perhaps you'd feel better if you had a cup of coffee?"

He shook his head and moved the angel so that Arthur was more sitting on his lap instead of lying across it. "If I have coffee now, I'll be up half the night. Unless you want to spend half the night looking after me when I'm all hyper." Of course, since it was Friday, that might not be a bad idea...

"Certainly not if you intend to watch those ghastly horror films of yours," he said sternly, his fingers finding their way to the back of Alfred's neck, combing through the soft golden hair there. "I don't need you kept doubly awake and high-strung with fear."

Laughing a little, Alfred rolled his eyes. "Come on, horror movies are awesome. You would know that if you were American." He leaned up and kissed Arthur, feeling better the second he did so. Kissing him always made him feel much better. But quickly, they were both made aware of something very insistent and _hard_. "Ah, sorry, guess I haven't thought of really... you know, taking a _shower_for a while..."

Arthur cleared his throat, cheeks a little red. "It's fine." He pressed close to Alfred again, his tongue sliding past the welcoming gate of Alfred's lips while slowly his hips began to move with the intent of only catering to Alfred's need.

At the friction, Alfred gave a small moan. "A-Arthur, you don't have to do that, it's not a big deal." Kissing him was great, but he was pretty sure that since he wasn't human but an angel, he probably couldn't really do stuff like that, so he was perfectly content to be able to kiss him like this.

"I said it's fine," Arthur said, stroking the back of his neck. "And since you can't shut your mouth about it, I might as well tell you that it doesn't really matter; my body wasn't made to succumb to pleasures of the flesh." He gave Alfred a kiss, experimentally shifting his hips forward. "This is for you, so shut your gob and enjoy it."

He closed his eyes at the pleasure, now thrusting as well. Alfred pulled the angel in so he could kiss him again, their bodies only separated by their clothes. One of his hands rested on his thigh, bare where the toga had ridden up. "C-can I?" he asked, his hand going just under the white material.

Arthur pulled apart, panting a little. "I told you, I- a-ahh!" he gasped, his hips jerking in response to Alfred's touch. He looked into Alfred's eyes, puzzled, flustered, and then down. Alfred's eyes widened. He looked down as well, seeing that he had pushed his hand farther under the toga and was extremely close to Arthur's crotch, to where they were still rubbing against each other. "Did... did that feel good?"

The angel frowned, his grip on the American tightening. "I... I don't know... it was strange... my body reacted on its own." He raised his eyes to Alfred's in question. Slowly, almost cautiously, he bumped noses with Alfred, kissing him and rotating his hips.

After that, Alfred pushed his hand farther, and felt Arthur's hair, and a little further what was unmistakably a cock. It was strange; even though angels should have no reason for genitalia, God had given them some anyway. It was almost like he wanted them to screw up. At that, Arthur downright moaned, the sound rumbling into Alfred's mouth from his own. Arthur pulled back, his heart in his throat, and looked down once more. "This... impossible," he said, gasping when Alfred moved his hand, sending rockets of.. of some strange feeling all throughout his body.

"You like it, don't you?" Alfred asked, grinning up at him. From his many years of... experience, he knew just where to touch to make him feel good. He wasn't really hard, maybe that was because he wasn't human, but by the look on Arthur's face, he definitely enjoyed it.

The angel knew that Alfred was looking at him and buried his face into the human's shoulder, making little noises against his skin. He reached down, remembering his original intent through the thick haze of pleasant distraction, and felt his way around Alfred's own straining _problem_.

Alfred moaned lightly when he felt a hand on his erection. With his free hand, he reached down and unzipped his fly. "Please, I'm going crazy..." He panted, still fisting Arthur's cock. Perhaps God had just made angels the same as humans, but they just couldn't get hard, he thought, a random piece of logic his mind threw at him.

Arthur tried to keep up, his mind in a haze, clumsily stroking Alfred's manhood, tracing his fingers all along the sizable appendage, circling the leaking tip with his thumb. "Mmnh, Alfred," he murmured, his voice breezing past Alfred's collar bone.

"Tell me how you feel, tell me what it feels like," Alfred panted, really wanting to know what Arthur was feeling. Did it feel just the same as a normal hand job? Or maybe he was even more sensitive, never having been touched like this before?

Whimpering lightly in the back of his throat, Arthur struggled to describe it. "It's hot," he said, pumping at Alfred's cock. "It's so hot; I feel like something's pulling at me. S-something needs to happen... mmnh, I feel like I'm going to explode!"

Licking alone Arthur's long neck, Alfred grinned and gave it a lick. "That means you're about to come. Come with me Arthur, just let yourself go!"

When he did, it felt as though something inside of him had decided to break free from confines he'd never known existed, and open-mouthed, a little cry broke free from his lips. His fingers curled tightly around the American's throbbing appendage.

His own climax came just after, Alfred feel liquid heat shoot down his shaft. "_Arthur_!" He panted and the angel fell against him. He took his hand back and grinned, glancing down at it. "Hey, nothing came out... Weird."

Arthur groaned, falling heavily against him. "It isn't weird," Arthur mumbled, nuzzling his neck. "Why would a seraph need seed? We don't produce offspring."

"True, but then why do you have a dick in the first place? You don't even need to piss." Alfred took his lover's hand, slipped it through the warm drips that trickled down Arthur's abdomen and licked it clean, deciding to not think that it was his own come, more that it was come that he was licking off Arthur. Blushing a brilliant scarlet, Arthur tried to ignore the actions and focus on the words. "I'm not one to question the Design of all Creation, Alfred," he said, too content against the other to really move. His body pulsed in a heavy, pleasant fashion.

Humming in agreement, Alfred positioned them so it was more comfortable. Yes, they were on the couch, and yes it was only 7 o'clock, but he was damn tired. "I'm going to sleep. Are you tired?"

Arthur laughed a bit, and patted Alfred's chest. "More or less. I'll be here when you wake, love."


	7. Seven

Alfred sighed and started looking for some clothes. He had run out of coffee, so he hadn't had any all morning. He was already beginning to feel the effects, because he wasn't noticing things nearly as much as he normally would.

One of his socks fell on the floor so he went to pick it up. When down, he saw that there was something shiny under his bed. Reaching out, he saw that it was the now-empty can of tea he had bought for Arthur nearly two months before. He must have forgotten to throw it away or something, but that didn't really seem like Arthur.

Once he was dressed, Alfred went to the stairs to throw the can away.

Understanding Alfred's intent by reading his obvious body language, Arthur popped into view right behind. "No!" he cried, more than a little panicked at the prospect that his one and only possession would be thrown away like garbage. Not having expected him, Alfred jumped, and completely blamed the lack of coffee for the fact that he fell down the last few stairs. "Ow—oof! Arthur, what the hell!" He rubbed the back of his head, where it had bumped on the stairs, and gingerly grabbed his elbow as well. It seemed nothing was broken, though.

Falling to his knees beside the human, Arthur fussed, his wide green eyes frantic. "Are you all right? I'm so sorry, Alfred, I... oh, here, let me have a look at you." He felt all over Alfred's body, poking and prodding for any broken bones or bruises.

He laughed a little when Arthur poked a rather ticklish part. "Artie, I'm fine! Just a little bruised is all." He saw the can had rolled away and he went to grab it. "So what were you saying no about?" Even though he had said he wasn't really hurt, the angel was still looking him over carefully. Arthur took Alfred's hand, squeezing it, his brow still furrowed with concern. "I... I just didn't want to lose it," he said, catching his lip between his teeth at Alfred's questioning gaze. "It was my first... my first gift," he confessed, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. "I didn't want to lose the memory. I didn't mean to startle you... I'm so sorry."

Alfred's baby blues widened. "That's so sweet! Aww Arthur, I'll give you more gifts from now on so you don't have to keep a rusty old can!" Alfred grabbed Arthur around the middle, hugging him tightly. Then he kissed him, still grinning like a fool.

The angel hummed, subtly prying the can from Alfred's hands and nestling it gently in his lap. He cupped Alfred's cheek in his hand and gently pulled away, a barely-there smile on his lips. "Don't be silly. This is all I want."

Pouting, Alfred rolled over and got up. "Come on, there are much better gifts that I could give you! You'll at least be getting a billion for Christmas. Or do you angels have a big get together for the Birthday celebration or something?" He adjusted his glasses that had gone askew during the fall.

Arthur chuckled, floating upwards and smoothing the pristine white toga over his lap, the canister resting there nicely. "Every moment of existence is a celebration for angelic beings," he answered simply, wings fluttering gently behind him.

"So we can spend Christmas together! Oh, but I usually go home for Christmas, so we won't really be able to see each other..." But they could make it work. He went to the kitchen, trying to find a substitute for coffee. "Is there any caffeine in your tea? Maybe I should just eat a lot of chocolate?"

The angel peeked over his shoulder, his cheek near to Alfred's ear. "Tea is caffeinated," he nodded. "I never thought you'd run out of coffee, love."

"Trust me; I'm going shopping for some today. So will tea wake me up at all?" He wasn't going to try the stuff if he didn't know for certain that it would work. It was either this, or be on a perpetual sugar high all day.

Arthur perked up at the opportunity to rave about his favorite human beverage. "Not only will it keep you up, but it also helps to alleviate stress. It's very good for you."

He was a little skeptical, but agreed to try it anyway, if Arthur would make it. "I bet it won't work as good as coffee though." His brother had told him once that in Canada, they had a coffee chocolate bar. Maybe he should ask Mattie for a bunch of those, just for situations like this.

With his feet only a few inches off the ground, Arthur happily complied to the request, setting a tea kettle on the stove and filling it with diluted water. "I hope you change your mind," he hummed, setting the kettle on the stove once it was full of water.

"I won't. But if it wakes me up a little more, then maybe I won't fall down any more stairs." It was kind of sad really, not jerking off for a real long time made him mad, but a lack of coffee only made him clumsy. Alfred knew it was a little backwards, but it didn't really matter. By the end of the day, he would have more coffee, and with Arthur he would probably never have to worry about jerking off again. Already they had continued that act from the couch nearly every night.

Oblivious to the straying thoughts in Alfred's mind, Arthur went about the business of preparing tea as usual, retrieving the honey from a cabinet, knowing that Alfred would want it teeth-achingly sweet. He was about to pick a brand that Alfred might like when he felt an arm wrap around his waist and made a noise as he was pulled away from the cabinet. "O-oi, I was trying to pick a flavor!"

"The only flavor I want is you," Alfred whispered by his neck. He had been waiting far too long, and as his thoughts began to get much higher than a PG rating, he had gotten much hornier. Arthur's wiggling butt didn't do much to help it, either.

Succumbing without too much of a fight, Arthur sighed in pleasant defeat, craning his neck to allow Alfred more space to lavish affection upon. After years and years of wanting, it was far too nice to struggle against- a-all of the kissing and touching and holding.

As he turned Arthur around so they could look at each other, Alfred realized that he had never actually seen him completely naked. Sure, he had pushed the toga up to get to the important parts, but it always stayed on. So he began tugging on it. "Can I...?"

Flushing a deep, brilliant red, Arthur opened his mouth to reply in a fashion his mind had yet to fathom when he was abruptly interrupted by the quick shriek uprising of the tea kettle. Scrambling hastily from Alfred's arms, he went to remove it from the burner and fetched two cups with clumsy hands; he felt the flesh at the back of his neck tingle with goosebumps at Alfred's warm proximity.

When the warm body-feeling left his arms, Alfred gave a loud sigh. "It always seems like I come second to tea for you." But he smiled all the same and took the mug. As he had suspected, it tasted horrible, but if it had caffeine he would just have to deal with it.

Arthur huffed when Alfred made a face and snatched the cup away. "Give me that. I had _intended _to drown it in honey for you," he griped, stirring the viscous amber in.

A little surprised at the thought, Alfred once again took it. Well, now it tasted pretty much like hot honey, because of the amount that was in it. "Somehow I still think this will give me a sugar rush. But thanks."

The angel rolled his eyes. He should have known that Alfred wouldn't truly appreciate the drink. He must have just been too accustomed to that coffee slop.

"Regardless of what you might think of it," he said primly, taking a dainty sip, "you are wrong."

"All I know is that I like the black stuff way better. At least that's good without sweetening it up." He didn't always drink coffee black, but he liked it all the same. "And tea can't sober you up when you had too much to drink."

"Then don't drink," Arthur said with a roll of his eyes. "Honestly, you humans and your liquor. Why can't you find better, more productive ways to spend your time aside from intoxicating yourselves?"

At that Alfred frowned. "Just because you've never gotten drunk doesn't mean you can be all high and mighty about it. Look what happened with your speech about 'Us humans and our sexual desires'. You might be eating your words one day." As if to solidify his point, he pulled Arthur down on his lap, arranging it so the wings weren't in the way from months of practice.

"Y-yes, well, this is different," Arthur countered, trying to keep his tea from sloshing all over the place as Alfred moved him about. When his wings nearly knocked Alfred's (practically full) cup to the floor, he simply willed them away.

Alfred once again wanted to see Arthur naked. But this time he tried to be sneaky about it, since last time it made Arthur nervous. He slowly slid his hand up his thigh, like he had done so many times before. "How is it different?" he purred in a dark voice that he knew the angel loved. And indeed, tremors raced through Arthur's spine, sparking something deep and hot in his belly. "Well, for... for one thing..." Arthur began, his eyes following the movement of the hand on his thigh, "it, um... i-if it's with someone you love... s-someone you intend to share the rest of your life with, t-the sexual pleasures of the flesh aren't destructive, but... but alcohol- w-what are you doing?"

"Undressing my boyfriend. Got a problem with that?" Alfred gave a grin and started sucking on Arthur's neck. The toga was already up to his chest, and he could just see cute little nipples.

He most certainly did not have a problem with it. With a tiny "oh!" of surprise, he dropped the cup of tea onto the floor without a second thought the moment Alfred rolled a nipple experimentally between his thumb and forefinger. At last, Alfred lifted the white material over Arthur's head, and threw it on the counter so as not to get it in the spilled tea. Although the angel could probably just conjure one up whenever he wanted. "I like you like this. I think you look even more like an angel."

Arthur's blush must have reached his toes. Wordlessly, he pulled Alfred close, kissing him with the sloppy finesse of a lover. He didn't quite have the words to explain that Alfred's sweet words were, in and of themselves, little drops of his own personal heaven.

* * *

Alfred knew that he hadn't spoken with Matthew much since he presumably returned from Germany, basically just enough to know that he wasn't killed by a Nazi. So he decided to give him a call one night, when Arthur was intent on watching a movie. Ever since their date, he had gotten to like them much more.

"Hey Mattie! How are things with you and what's-his-face?"

"_Gilbert_," he corrected patiently on the other line. Matthew waved the man in question away when he was shot with a curious look and a loud question. "_No, I'm talking to Alfred... Gil, please shut up, I'm talking to my brother. Sorry about that. Things are fine here; Gilbert and I decided to stay in Germany for a while. He's got these weird attachment issues to his little brother and- ack, Gilbert, don't throw that at me, Ludwig will get pissed- hold on, Alfred, I'm moving to another room. No, you can't follow me."  
_  
Still laughing at the one-sided conversation he was hearing, Alfred rolled over on his bed. "You're slurring your words a lot. Are you drunk? You're not even 21 yet!" Not to say that he himself hadn't gotten drunk before that, but this was his little brother!

"_In Germany, the drinking law is suuuuper lax, so it's fine_," Matthew responded, shutting the door to his and Gilbert's shared room, leaning heavily against it. "_So, is something up, or do you just miss me terribly?"  
_  
"I wouldn't say I miss you _terribly_, but I still miss you." It was his brother, after all. They had grown up together! Sure the few first years of his life he was an only child, but he couldn't really remember those. "So, what's the little brother like?"

Matthew squinted through the dark room, tiredly rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. "_Ludwig? He's really..."_ he grappled for words, _"... straight-laced. He's tall and really intimidating, but Feliciano is convinced that he's the most adorable thing on the planet."_

He laughed again at that, actually enjoying talking to his brother like this. It seemed alcohol loosened his brother's inhibitions, so he actually said what he was thinking. "Feliciano doesn't sound like a German name. It sounds like a gay name." Germans always had rough names, but that one sounded really girly.

"_It's not gay.. well, _Feliciano_is, or maybe he's bisexual; I've heard some pretty great stories about his hetscapades, which is hard to believe when you see him next to the epitome of masculinity that is Ludwig... er, anyway, the point is that it's Italian."_ He paused, and then, for clarification, "_And not gay. Even though he is."_

"Holy crap, you're _really_ buzzed!" Alfred had never heard his brother say something like that! Usually what he said was thought out and polite. Unless he was really nervous, because then he tended to mess up his words. But most of the time, he wouldn't even talk about someone's sexuality indirectly .

_"I am, aren't I?"_ Matthew said, his tone a little goofy. "_With good reason; we're watching the- OH MY GOSH."_ He didn't seem to care if Alfred could hear him crashing and stumbling out of the room and down the hall, all the way back into the living room where Gilbert was sprawled out on the couch with a beer in his hand. _"The hockey game! I'd totally forgotten... you made me forget that we were in the middle!"_ he cried into the receiver.

Oh no, a drunk Matthew watching hockey could not be a good combination. Alfred remembered when they were kids, Mattie half his height, playing a 'friendly' game of hockey. He got pounded into the ice by a seven year old! "Well, how are they doing? Who's playing?"

Matthew allowed himself to be pulled over halfway into Gilbert's lap, making himself comfortable on the German's thighs. _"It's the greatest thing ever_," Matthew answered, smiling and cocking his head to the side. _"It's a Canadian team versus one from Sweden... funniest thing I've ever seen! One of Canada's started flipping shit on the opposers in French, and the Swedish guys just staaared."  
_  
"Well, sounds like the game is going good then. I honestly swear all those guys like jerk off together in the showers or something." He had seen some pretty convincing videos before. Players slapping each others butts, getting really close, and with all the fighting working them into a sweat, they must need it after!

"_Hm_?" Matthew hummed, glancing sideways at the albino twirling some of his hair about that pale finger. _"What brought that on?"_

Alfred laughed a bit. "I don't know, guess I've been thinking about masturbation a lot lately." Mainly because he and Arthur did it to each other so often, but he couldn't tell Matthew. He would passively aggressively force him to let them meet, and he would eventually give in.

"_You have, eh?"_ Matthew said, swatting Gilbert's hand away when it started wandering. _"Is there anything you want to tell me?"_

And let the passive aggression start. "No way in hell, and I have a feeling that even if I did you wouldn't remember it in the morning." He would remain strong and in no way suggest that he was in a relationship.

Matthew rolled his eyes and promptly became dizzy. "_So if I forget, what's the point of not telling m- Gilbert, stop, I'm on the phone!"  
_  
Well... perhaps if he didn't actually say he was in a relationship... "Well, there's really nothing to tell. I'm just really happy right now. I mean, my life is kinda perfect. Not that I'm with anyone, 'cause I'm not, I'm just having a lot of _fun_ with a _friend_ I have." Yup, his explanation was air tight, no way Mattie was gonna figure him out.

_"You mean that one guy from before? You're still seeing him? That's, like... a record for you, isn't it?"_ Matthew asked, half zoned out once the game came back on.

"No, that is definitely not the person! And we're friends, not dating. No, the friend I'm talking about is completely different from the one I told you about before. And we're friends." Oh crap, why did he have to be such a bad liar? And why couldn't he have remembered from his childhood that he was this bad at it?

Reaching over to grab the fleece blanket at the end of the sofa, Matthew draped it over Gilbert and himself, finally starting to calm down as the alcohol worked its way through his bloodstream, making him a little drowsy. "_Okay, so what about this... friend?"_

Good, maybe in his drunken state, Matthew didn't catch the obvious lie. "Uh, nothing much. We just hang out, do stuff friends do. And it's awesome. How is your life? Tell me all about Gilbert!" A very nice change of topic, if he did say so himself.

Matthew was sure to clamp a firm hand over Gilbert's mouth before the albino could respond to the audible question with something asinine. _"Gil's just fine. A lot like you: egotistical, a little manic, terrible at telling me the truth from the get-go."_

_"I told you the truth when we first met! I am totally an awesome descendant from Prussian royalty! So you should totally bow at my feet!"_ The albino yelled so that the person on the other line could hear clearly... even if there wasn't a phone in his own hands.

_"Uh huh, your feet; sorry, Al, what were you saying?"_ he said, stuffing a pillow in Gilbert's face.

A little frown adorned his face as the American held the phone in his hand. He didn't really like talking about Matthew's boyfriend, since he still hadn't met him and he seemed like the type that would be bad for his brother. But talking about Gilbert was better than talking about Arthur, so he kept going. "I was just wondering about your relationship. Like what do you guys do normally? Has he taken you out on a few dates?" He should have at least done that, if they were steadily dating.

Matthew regarded his boyfriend for a moment. "_We've been on a few... maybe once or twice a month, but not very often. Mostly we just chill at one of our places, or hang out with his friends. Why do you ask?"_

Well, didn't that figure? The German probably couldn't afford to take Mattie out much. He was probably a drunk too, 'cause he was German. Already he wasn't liking this guy. "Matt... Matthew," He said, so that he would know he was serious. "He doesn't force you to have sex or anything right? I mean, if he did, I would-"

"_What?"_ Matthew's eyes widened. "_No! No, Alfred, no. I assure you, everything is perfectly consensual."_ He waved off Gilbert's weird look._ "Al, why would you say something like that?"  
_  
The strong response made Alfred a bit curious. But on the other hand, he might just be a paranoid older brother. "Well, I worry about you. You haven't even let me meet him, and you're getting all serious! And look, even if he's into rough sex, you can still say no."

The younger of the two rested his face on his palm and sighed. _"Alfred. There's totally something on your mind. I have the feeling it's got something to do with sex."_

"The only thing on my mind is that you're dodging the question. I mean it, those Germans are into some weird shit! I've seen videos." Videos of a nature in which his baby brother should never see. "Has he ever bitten you? Tried to tie you up? Because you don't have to put up with that."

Matthew would have relocated had Gilbert not snagged him about the waist in a way that quite bluntly meant that he was not going anywhere, come hell or high water.  
_  
"A-Al, I'm not avoiding the question, it's just that it's... it's personal, you know?"  
_  
He didn't really want the topic dropped like that, since he had to make sure his little brother was safe, and was in no way nosy. And anyway, Arthur was downstairs, so what did it matter? "Was it private when you first started jerking off, and got a rash, and I was the only one to help you? Was it private when you got your first look at a porn magazine and I explained to you where mom never looked in your room? Come on Mattie, we're brothers! Bros before 'ho'es!"

Red staining his cheeks, Matthew cleared his throat. _"Fine. Fine. Yes, he bites, but it's the good kind. The really good kind. And we can't find Ludwig's bondage stuff, so no to the, um... the other question."_ He avoided Gilbert's eyes like the plague. _"Anything else?"_

Now he was getting somewhere. For the safely of his brother. "Well, has he ever done something you don't like? Oh! Has he said he loves you yet? 'Cause if he said it right before you had sex the first time, that was probably just to get in your pants."

Matthew tucked a strand of honeyed blond behind his ear_. "Before, after, during, it just depends on how little liquor he's had and what mood he's in._" He paused. _"... in hindsight, that was a bad thing to tell you. Don't think too far into it."  
_  
"He fucks you when he's drunk? That is not allowed! Pass that asshole the phone, I need to give him a piece of my mind!" So what if _he_ had had sex when he was drunk, this was completely different!

"_No_!" Matthew snapped, fighting Gilbert's hand away, projecting toward the both of them. "_Alfred, listen to me. No, stop talking, and just listen."_ He grabbing Gilbert's hand in its last attempt to snag the phone and brought it to his stomach. _"Al, I would never let anyone take advantage of me. Ever. You've seen me wield blunt weapons before, you know that. And Gilbert... even though he wears a bravado like a whore and her makeup-"_ he winced at the loud 'hey!' issued in his ear. _"-even so, he would never take advantage of me. Really and honestly. He's very good to me, Alfred."_

A bit subdued by his brother's outburst, Alfred shrunk away a little. He really seemed to love this guy. He was in love as well, but Matthew and Gilbert didn't have to hide, and they could be more intimate than he could ever be with Arthur. "Sorry Matt. I should have trusted your judgment."

A slow breath later and Matthew had calmed, his tensed muscles relaxing. _"It's fine, Al,"_ he said, his voice returning to its normal, soft tenor. _"But that was pretty sudden, eh? You haven't been, uh... holding that in for a while, have you?"_

"Not really. It's just that you're my little brother! You can tell me anything." Which meant that he should also be able to tell Matthew anything. Guilt twisted slightly in Alfred's gut. "Um... That friend I told you about? Sorry, I lied. It is the guy I had a crush on before."

Matthew blinked, his smile slow in spreading. "_Yeah_?" he asked, a little eagerly. "_Tell me about him."_

Maybe telling him a bit wouldn't hurt. "He's British. And I thought he would be like a prude because of that but he's not really!" Okay, so he didn't really think he was a prude and it wasn't because he was British, it was because he was an angel. "We haven't done it, and we probably won't, but we've done some stuff."

The younger brother accepted a few M&Ms, licking them out of Gilbert's hand. "_Ah?"_ he said with a mouthful of chocolate._ "If you've done other stuff, why don't you go all the way? What exactly have you guys done?"_

"We've kissed and jerked each other off. But we can't really go all the way. Strangely though, I don't mind much." Unless he was thinking about sex, then he was fine.

"_Alfred_," Matthew sighed, his head flopping back against Gilbert's shoulder. "_All right. I know you've spent your entire adult life banging for kicks, so I'm gonna tell you something that'll probably blow your mind. I hope you're sitting down_." He switched his phone more comfortably to the other ear. _"Sex isn't just release. Well. I guess _just_ sex is. But the really, really good stuff, you know, fireworks and Hollywood and a real, true connection? Al, it's different. It's putting meaning behind every move you make, and in the end, you don't just get a moment's high; you feel complete. And I know it sounds cheesy, but honest to goodness, that's _making love_."_ He closed his eyes. "... _Wow, you're quiet. Did you fall asleep?"_

No, he didn't fall asleep. Alfred was pouting. "Jerking off is just as good. I mean there is love, and we both feel good, right? So really, what's the difference?" Because they couldn't actually have sex. The farthest they could probably go would be oral, and he didn't want to ask Arthur for that because he didn't want to put any pressure on him.

"_Okay, that's fine then_," Matthew said with a nod. _"Whatever makes you happy, Al. Just make sure he's happy, too. One of the most important parts of being in a relationship... and the one you've always had some trouble with... is being attentive to your lover."  
_  
"I am attentive! Why do you think we haven't had sex?" But now with Matthew's sermon about 'making love' on his mind, Alfred was starting to wonder what it would be like to touch Arthur like that, so... sinfully delicious. "Dammit Mattie, now I want to fuck someone. I wonder if Ivan is still in town..."

Matthew felt his hand move of its own accord to hit himself in the forehead. He groaned. _"Al, how can you utter two completely contradictory statements in one breath without even batting an eye? That's the farthest thing from attentive and loving on _any_ scale!"_ He huffed at his brother's stupidity. _"Just go talk to... what's his name? Your boyfriend?"_

Saying his name couldn't hurt, could it? It wasn't like it was an angelic name. "Arthur. And it is attentive! Because if I fuck Ivan, or he fucks me, then I can get it out of my system for good and continue not doing that with Arthur. And anyway, Arthur knows about my... history with Ivan." And everyone he had ever been with, because he had been there his whole life.

_"That's not the point!"_ Matthew insisted ardently. "_Alfred, you can't be in a proper relationship if you're going to go do stuff like that with such terrible reasoning. It's only going to hurt Arthur."_ He frowned. _"And what on earth makes you think that if you satiate your lust this time that it won't come around again? You'll just end up hurting Arthur over and over with this weird... protectiveness...? of yours."_

He groaned and rolled over on his side, arm flopping over the side of the bed. Alfred could still hear the TV from downstairs, which meant that Arthur was still watching it. "So what, I have to be celibate? And don't you start laughing, of course I know what it means. I just don't wanna be!" This was gonna suck. But if it was for the angel...

"_Talk to him_," Matthew said with assuredness. "_He probably doesn't know how badly you want it. Present the option to him and see where it goes. Al, this is the first meaningful relationship you've had in your life. Don't screw it up over miscommunication."_

"Talk to him? That's like the girliest advice ever." Though... Arthur was pretty girly, so maybe he would appreciate it?

_"Yeah, girly, whatever. Look, I'm not gonna miss any more of this game for your little problem, Al. Love you. Take my advice or don't; it's **just** your happiness on the line. Talk to you later."  
_  
And with an abrupt click, he was gone.

* * *

ONE CHAPTER LEFT, GAIZ.


	8. Eight

He stared at the phone for a minute before closing it and getting off the bed. He had been away from Arthur long enough. Alfred went downstairs, a little grumpy with thinking of sex. Should he tell him? Or should he just hide it?

On the first floor, Arthur floated cross-legged a few inches above the sofa, frowning at the television as he tried to unravel the crime show's plot. He glanced up, hearing Alfred come down the stairs. "Was that Matthew?"

"Yeah." Alfred said simply, plopping down on the couch and unconsciously crossing his arms. This sucked. Would Arthur be mad at him for wanting such a humanly thing? He was always saying _You humans this_ or _You humans that_. Maybe he thought sex was disgusting.

Arthur bit his lip, unsure of whether or not to gravitate toward Alfred in his obviously bad mood. He slowly lowered himself onto the couch cushion, leaning back. "How is he?"

Sulking moodily, he refused to look at the hovering angel. "He's fine. Great, even. Totally in love with _Gilbert_." Stupid German. Who would date a German anyway? They always sound like they were yelling.

"Well, as long as he's all right, then..." Arthur said. After a moment, the living room lapsed into an awkward silence and the angel just didn't know how to break it, didn't want to move for fear of upsetting the off-balance mood.

There were a few minutes where the only sounds were coming from the TV. Alfred was looking at the screen, but he wasn't really paying attention to it. Finally he made up his mind, and spoke before he could change it again. "Matthew told me I should tell you that I want sex."

The angel started, his eyes widening. He opened his mouth to speak, and when nothing came out he saw a flash of retreat in Alfred's eyes and quickly picked his words. "Oh, d-did he? Why, um... why would he say that?"

"Well, he started talking about sex, and then I said that we don't need sex, but then he said stuff about 'making love' and I realized I _do_ want sex, and that I should go somewhere for sex cause you're an angel, and he said it would be better if I told you." Alfred said in one breath, and then fell silent, still not looking at Arthur.

Arthur swallowed, slowly absorbing the information.

"So... what do you.." He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "What do you, ah... mean by 'somewhere for sex'?"

Finally Alfred looked at him. "Well, like I could go out, and it would kinda be like with Ivan, ya know? So I guess Matt just thought I should ask you permission or something." He had said talk about it, after all.

Pristine white wings trembled a little as he looked away. Arthur's heart gave a sickening thud in his chest. "Oh?" The white material in his fists wrinkled in his tight, tight grasp. "D-do you want Ivan, then?"

"Well Ivan was just an example. It could be anyone really. Unless you don't want me to." In that case he could just tough it out. As long as he and Arthur kept jerking each other off, he could manage, he supposed. It was just that sex was so nice! And he even knew that doing it with someone else wouldn't fix his problem, because he wanted to try making love like Matthew had said.

But every word coming from Alfred's mouth only sickened Arthur down to his soul. He knew his cheeks would be red with the heat of embarrassment; he had been such a fool to think that Alfred would love and want only him. "I... I'm not..." He had never been honest with himself, and if he wasn't what Alfred wanted, who was he to stand in the way? Only a guardian. He lifted his face with a smile pasted over the front, a macabre distortion of complacency. "If that's what you want, Alfred."

He now had permission, but Alfred didn't feel any better. He groaned and leaned into Arthur, his face in his shoulder and smelling the fresh smell of his garments. ""But that's _not_ what I want!" He whined, closing his eyes. "Fuck, sometimes I wish you weren't an angel. It would be so much easier!"

A hitch in his breath, Arthur slowly, cautiously lifted his hands to Alfred's shoulders, running them over his back. "Tell me," he said softly, "exactly what you want."

"I want _you_, of course. I want you however I can get you, preferably on a bed, but I would still be glad to have you on the couch, or over a table, or on a public bench for all I care! But that is probably a big taboo for angels, and it's not like you could make it non-sinning 'cause we can't get married because it's illegal and stuff." He finished his rant, still practically sniffing Arthur's toga. Hey, Matt was right, it _did_ feel good to get that off his chest!

Arthur considered this. He pondered it for a long moment, fiddling absentmindedly with the soft golden hair at the nape of Alfred's neck. He thought about it until he felt Alfred start to fidget, knowing full well just how patient the human was not. His words came out slowly, carefully, selfishly. "I think that if... if it was going to be a problem... I would have been Contacted for all of the things we've done… a long time ago."

Suddenly Alfred looked up at him, wondering if Arthur meant what he thought he meant. "So... like -uh- what?"

The angel frowned, his wings fluttering awkwardly, half blocked by the back of the sofa. He pretended with all of his might that his cheeks were not apple-red.

"I-I'm saying that if you want it so badly, I'm willing to oblige."

Alfred grinned and pushed forward, embracing Arthur in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh my God! I love you so much!" He started kissing him, all over his face. "I mean, only if you want. And stuff. Like it's totally up to you if you want to." Even though the angel's toga was already half off.

Arthur yelped and scrambled to pull the cloth back down to decency, only after a moment realizing that, considering what they were about to do, it was little counter-productive.

"Wait, wait!" he gasped, his eyelids fluttering closed when Alfred nicked that one beautifully sensitive spot on his neck with his teeth. "N... no, Alfred, the bed..."

He pulled back and nodded quickly. "Yeah, right, good idea. Oh shit! I should go to the drug store and get some lube... and maybe a box of condoms? I mean you don't need them, 'cause you don't actually come, but I do." He was still breathing a little hard, and his glasses were askew. He gave him one last kiss and got off the couch.

Arthur watched him with love-hazy, confused eyes, his cheeks flushed. "Huh? But, don't you want to...?"

"Of course! But I at least need lube, or else it would hurt. I haven't bought lube for a while, 'cause I haven't had sex for a while." What happened with Ivan didn't count. Besides, that was a blow job, not sex.

"Do..." He swallowed, glancing down in red embarrassment. "Do we really need to?"

Alfred bit his lip, looking to the side. `Need to have sex? No, I already said that it was up to you." Damn, had he pushed too hard?

"No, I mean, um..." Well, now he felt stupid. "Do we really need... those... items?"

Oh, that's what he meant. "Um, I guess we could try using like conditioner or something. Why, can't wait?" he asked with a smirk. Arthur was just so cute when he blushed like that! Alfred took his hand and pulled him towards the stairs.

Arthur decided not to answer with an affirmative, knowing he would only be teased. He followed Alfred up the stairs, his feet barely touching the ground, and immediately at the top he grabbed the human, yanking him down for a kiss. He had seen it done so many times between Alfred and someone else, but it wasn't someone else anymore. It was _him_ in those strong arms. And this was what he had waited for perhaps all of Alfred's life, if not his own.

Before they reached the bedroom, Alfred in the bathroom for something to use and came out with some lotions. "Alright, all set." He trapped Arthur against the door to the bedroom, kissing him deeply.

The angel clung tightly to Alfred's shoulders, giving a half-moan, half-hum when the human pulled him up by his thighs. He obligingly wrapped his legs about Alfred's waist, fervently tasting his tongue. To be honest, anymore, he wouldn't at all mind just doing the deed right there; both Alfred and his own hot, thrumming body didn't seem to mind.

But vertically speaking, it didn't seem to be on the American's agenda, as Alfred grabbed onto the smaller body and opened the door, making sure he didn't fall backwards. Lips still locked together, they moved to the bed, before Arthur's legs hit the side. "Your throne, my king," the American said, laughing when the angel sat down. Pulling him down by his shirt, Arthur mouthed along Alfred's neck. "If I'm the king, what does that make you?" he asked breathlessly.

"Mm... your manservant?" With that, Alfred knelt down on the floor, still between Arthur's legs. "How may I be of service, King Arthur?" His breath ghosted along the toga, which he was quickly working up so he could get at what he really wanted.

Arthur groaned, his fingers tangling in that golden mess of hair. "Love, any service of yours is grossly underpaid. Kiss me, won't you?"

He moved back up so he could press his lips along Arthur's neck, to his mouth. Alfred pulled away for a second so he could lift the toga off the angel, and gave a small growl. "Why couldn't you be the type of angel that goes naked? Then I could see you like this all the time."

The angel blushed, squirming and moving to cover himself abashedly. "None of us go about in the buff; only you humans would idealize us in that f-fashion."

"Yup, 'cause it would be really sexy. And why not? Weren't Adam and Eve in the nude at the beginning?" Alfred put the makeshift lube on the bed close to his hand, and pushed Arthur down so he was on top of him.

"Mmm, but Adam and Eve were blissfully ignorant. The fruit of knowledge was their downfa-AAH, Alfred, that's cold!" he cried at the fingers circling his entrance.

He took his fingers back and rubbed them together, trying to warm up the lotion. "Sorry, this should be better." He went for Arthur's entrance again, pushing against it till the first finger slid in to the first knuckle. "How does that feel?"

The angel scrunched his face up in a contortion of awkward discomfort. "... I think you humans are a little too fanatic about something this uncomfortaahhh, Alfred!" He shuddered a bit as Alfred's probing finger stroked some sort of nerve or gland Arthur didn't even know he had. Hot waves rushed over him and he stared wide-eyed at his human. "Well, don't just look at me; do that again!"

"See? We humans know what we're talking about." Alfred laughed and pushed his finger even deeper, so instead of brushing his prostate he was hitting it. Arthur was making delicious sounds, his mouth open as he felt something he had never felt before. "I'm gonna add another finger, okay?"

Arthur grappled for a moment with Alfred's shirt, his legs spreading wider. "As long as you keep doing _that_," he agreed, "you can bloody well add two or three. _Gradually_."

Alfred quickly took his finger out so that Arthur could take off his shirt, and then pushed it back in, with another. He went once again for the magic spot and tried scissoring them, making the hole big enough for another finger. "Usually three fingers are good for stretching," he added conversationally.

Arthur didn't think he would have answered that even if he could, leaning back completely on the bed with his spine curved in an arch, offering up noises of breath and high pleasure to the ceiling.

"I want to try something." The American bent down, his fingers still thrusting, and took Arthur's cock with his other hand. It wasn't hard, because it seemed the angel couldn't actually get hard, but he could still feel it. So Alfred gave it a long lick, sucking slightly on the head.

Something inside of Arthur broke and he cried out, his body and mind reaching a blissful high as he sank back into the bedcovers, panting heavily.

Giving a small laugh, Alfred pulled himself up. "I love it when you orgasm." He added another finger, figuring that he might as well do it when Arthur was distracted. "But I'm gonna make you climax again, at least one more time."

Moaning quietly, Arthur allowed him to do as he wished, his legs splayed out over Alfred's lap, encasing his waist. He felt the gentle probe of those fingers, taking them in as cooperatively as his relaxed body could allow.

He would not mind an 'again'.

Alfred leaned down, taking his mouth in an insistent kiss. Then he pulled his fingers out, and chuckled when Arthur thrust his hips up a little. Rubbing the lotion on his own cock put him on edge, so he hardly waited to push in.

Even through his gently fading golden haze, Arthur could feel something new, something different, something fuller make its way through him, and the words fell from his lips before he could catch them in a gentle sob. "I love you, Alfred!"

Eyes widening, Alfred smiled. "I love you too!" He pulled Arthur up a bit, hugging him even as he thrust deeper inside him. He tried remembering exactly where that special spot was, to make his lover feel even better. "I love you so much."

Arthur's heart swelled and pounded with renewed vigor, his eyes welling with tears as he wrapped his lithe arms about Alfred's neck, arching up and up to meet his movements. The rhythm was awkward, and occasionally Alfred slipped out, but Arthur relished in the moments that he pushed back in, the first time all over again. Arthur wept for pleasure, for pain, for love, and for all the things that should not have felt as right as they did.

"Oh god Arthur, you feel so good." Alfred changed his pace, from slow to achingly fast. He wasn't sure which he liked better, because when he was slow, he could feel every inch of Arthur's hole clinging to the foreskin of his cock, but when he went fast the pleasure almost choked him. He reached down, fisting the limp shaft, using every technique he had figured that the angel liked.

Arthur, for his part, could not speak, barely able to keep a firm hold on Alfred's shoulders. The words "slow" and "savor" might have been cried out as he gripped those firm muscles, his eyes shut tight.

At this point, Alfred surrendered his body to the pleasure, and felt himself thrusting harder than before. He was so deep inside Arthur that he knew the angel could probably feel it in his throat, and that thought made him moan. The shaft in his hand twitched, which made him extremely happy, because it had never done even that much before.

The sheer force and drive behind his passion quickly pushed Arthur toward the edge for a second time, his mouth open in a wordless cavern from which only gasps and Alfred's name on a breath could escape.

He kept thrusting for a few more seconds, Arthur's moans bringing him dangerously close. Alfred pushed their mouths together, stealing the breath there, and came with a strangled moan.

The kiss itself, too, was Arthur's ultimate undoing. He melted against Alfred as a wave of pure euphoria crashed into him, bringing him under with heated contentment. Alfred's seed coated the inside of him, overflowing what little space there was left.

He pressed a hundred soft kisses to Alfred's lips in a single moment, feeling himself being lowered back onto the bed and wrapped up sweetly in a pair of loving arms. He felt safe. He felt wanted. Situating himself as close as possible to his companion in breathlessness, Arthur sighed.

"I love you. With all of my heart, I love you."

And then the room promptly disappeared in a flash of brilliant white.

* * *

Francis didn't exactly know why he was Summoned, but as he looked around and saw Arthur, it started to dawn on him. "What did you do?" He flew over to the other angel, looking at him with wide eyes. "This is because of Alfred, isn't it?"

For his part, Arthur was completely disoriented. One moment he was at the peak of completion with an entirely requited love, and the next he was... was in the judgment chamber with Francis tittering about like a ninny. "What's going on? Why am I here? Why are _you_ here?"

He was about to reply when an angel materialized before them. He gawked, seeing Gabriel. Someone must have done something very bad, because the only higher judgment would be the Lord Himself. The transient being looked over them with a businesslike simplistic apathy, his mouth opening to spill forth the Holy language.

"You, Francis, are here simply as a witness. You are unfortunately closest to Arthur. And as for you…" At this he rounded on the Brit. "You should know why you are here. It is bad enough when a human priest succumbs to sodomite desires, but for one of our own..!"

Arthur's jaw dropped. He was silent for a long moment, pale with fright, and in the next he turned beat red; with a subtle movement of his legs, he could feel Alfred's seed inside of him and on his thighs.

"Gabriel," he said, covering his nakedness with only a little shame. "For the life of me, I do not know what to say."

With a sigh, the archangel kneaded his forehead. "Repentance is for the mortals, and it is not our way to commit sins to warrant such apologies. An angels should know better." He looked up to Francis, who still looked awed at his presence. "Could you please explain Arthur's actions, the last time you two made contact?"

He wished to save his friend, but he also could not lie. Francis looked between the two and opened his mouth. "Arthur... cared deeply for his human. The amount of love he showed for the boy should be showed in all guardian angels for their humans."

Gabriel didn't even deem fit to humor Francis with a quirk of his eyebrow. "Oh? And do you love young Matthew in the same fashion that Arthur _loves_ his human?"

The enunciation on 'love' when the higher seraph spoke it made Arthur flinch.

Francis bit his lip and looked to the naked angel. In a burst of pity, he willed white clothes to cover him, since he seemed incapable… or perhaps, not allowed to do so himself. "We are angels, made of love. Does it matter in what fashion we express it in?" He winced slightly at the archangel's heavy gaze. Yes, he considered himself one of Gabriel's brothers, but he had never been in such a situation before.

"The purest form of love," Gabriel countered, simply glancing back and forth between the two, "cannot be expressed by a bond of the flesh. That is the greatest divide between us..." he lifted his hand, palm up, to indicate between the three of them, "and the humans. But you have spoiled that purity, Arthur."

The youngest angel burned with humiliation, and with sadness.

"What will be done with me?" he asked quietly.

"What do you think? We cannot have a human knowing so intimately of us, and we cannot have an angel that engages in such acts of the flesh. Your human will lose all memories of you, and you will become one of them." He sighed, hating that he had to do this. "If you had come to me sooner, it could have been different. But perhaps now you will have a chance to show true repentance." With that, Gabriel reached up and took Arthur's halo. He mourned it for a second, before breaking the thin strand of gold in half.

Arthur felt something in him break; he did not know whether it was the wings dissolving into sand from the feather tips to his shoulders, or if it was the knowledge that his sweet, wonderful, final- in-love-with-him Alfred would forget that he even existed. He opened his mouth to reply, but not a single sound came out. He touched his throat and felt hot, salty tears drip down his cheeks.

The French angel saw him collapse on the ground in sorrow. There was nothing he could really do for him now. He was no longer an angel; he was now fragile, weak, prone and terribly _human_. "I will take him to Earth, if I may."

"Yes. Please do." Gabriel gave one last look at the fallen angel, and then left. There was much he still had to do.

Arthur wept. The noiseless sobs wracked his body as Francis lifted him to his feet. An awful heartfelt pain sliced through his soul, as every connection to his human - his beloved, darling, beautiful Alfred - was gone. He clung to Francis' cloth like a lifeline, his silent tears soaking dark little dots into the heavenly garment.

Francis pat his hair, trying to sooth him. They had never exactly seen eye to eye, but he would try to comfort any angel that had been stripped of everything. It was an awful thing, and he didn't know exactly what to do. "_Mon ami_, it is not as bad as it seems. At least he did not take your own memories." Though he had a feeling that if that had happened, it might have actually been better.

Arthur's chest heaved as he felt solid ground beneath his feet for what genuinely felt like the first time, his bare toes sunken in a patch of grass, his heals hard on the concrete off a sidewalk. He raised his head from Francis' chest and looked around through wet, hot eyes.

"Where...?" he asked, his voice returning with a rasp.

It took a second for him to answer, trying to gauge his reaction. "About a block away from Alfred's house." After all, Gabriel never said where he had to take him. Alfred may not remember his guardian angel now, but that didn't mean that they couldn't see each other.

Arthur's eyes opened wide. He began to stumble blindly about, gravity making any movement awkward and difficult for him to properly coordinate, and it was only after nearly falling to the pavement below that he remembered that Alfred... Alfred didn't even know he existed anymore. His legs shook so badly that, if Francis with a gaze full of pity had not stayed by his side, he would have fallen to the ground. "What do I do?" Arthur asked miserably.

"I cannot tell you that, _mon cher_. He fell in love with you once. Who is to say that he won't again?" Francis knew that he needed to be getting back to his own charge, but he at least wanted to make sure Arthur didn't hurt himself in a moment of ill judgment. It was must assuredly a possibility at that point; not only did Arthur have no home to return to, or a human to watch, but he had no way of gaining human employment; no paperwork to prove that he even existed.

He would spend the rest of his sordid, miserable life on the streets.

The one thing, though, that truly struck him was that he would never again be able to watch over Alfred; if he had been restricted to Heaven, he could have done at least that.

"Would he really love me again?" he asked, his voice thick with sorrow. "A homeless fool with no human prospects? How would we even meet?"

Francis sighed, a little irritated now. "I do not know. You are human now, humans must take chances. I must go, I wish you good luck. _Au revoir_." He planted a kiss on both of Arthur's cheeks, not caring if it bothered him, and disappeared.

* * *

Walking in the cool night, a tall blond pondered the option of purchasing a dog. All of the sudden, for no particular reason, he had felt an aching loneliness in him. Maybe it was because Matthew was so far away? Their talk had been nice earlier, though he couldn't exactly recall what they had talked about.

It was then he saw a man, wearing nothing but what looked like a white towel. He looked like he was lost, and had tear tracks down his face. "Sir? Are you alright?"

Barely daring to hope, Arthur's attention snapped immediately to the voice of the one who had, so little time ago, held him in his arms passionately, full of love. Who now showed no recognition of him whatsoever. The hole in his heart throbbed painfully.

"... I don't know where I am," he answered honestly, his legs yearning to run, his body to fall against Alfred's. A humorless laugh was wrenched from his throat. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now."

The American gave a heartfelt smile. "Yeah, the recession is hurting us all." Then he looked at the man, he looked so thin... and that white towel, no clothes. "Hey, why don't you come to my place for the night? You look like you could use a good meal, and maybe I could find you some clothes that will fit. Everyone can use a helping hand now and then." And he held out his hand, giving Arthur a wink. "There's something to be said about southern hospitality, right?"

Arthur gazed at it like a treasured thing and slowly, tentatively as if he did not trust himself, allowed his former human to lead him along.

"… You're probably right."


End file.
